


Head Space

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 15:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14358240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: Following the Battle of New York, Loki was supposed to be imprisoned on Asgard for his crimes against Jotunheim and Midgard. When that proved too difficult, his terms of imprisonment were to be served on Midgard. Fury decided that SHIELD personnel would have to handle it, as well as try to rehabilitate him.That was probably too ambitious a plan.





	1. Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually post fics before I've finished them, so I have an accurate chapter count. But Real Life has been anti-ficcing lately, and I started this story back in December and I really should've been done with it by now. So, to push myself to write more in this story, I'm going to start posting it even though it's not complete yet. I have a buffer, I should be okay. Should be. ;)
> 
> Also, this an AU after the first Avengers movie, timing wise. [My friend Jessy](http://diana-godkiller.tumblr.com) gave me this awesome plot bunny. It was the skinniest, teeniest bunny, but those are the ones that have the sharpest teeth and demand to be heard. 
> 
> If you see foreign languages scattered, hover over them for translations. It'll be a fun education, trust me. :D

Natasha looked over the dossiers in front of her on the desk, then back up at Nicholas Fury, who sat across from her in his office, patiently waiting for her assessment. "Interesting choices," she said, voice level. 

For the average agent, there would have been no indication as to her thoughts. Being better than the average agent, Fury graced her with a sardonic smile. "You disapprove."

"Bellington is a blowhard and will be ripped to shreds within maybe ten minutes. We can give fifteen if Loki doesn't get irritated right away or feels like playing with him. He's not going to be able to get out of his own way." She tapped the particular folder and shot him a long look. "I remember being on the receiving end of those sessions. Loki has less patience than I do."

"And the other?"

"She's a trainee," Natasha said, the edge on her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Barely let the ink dry on her diploma and then you think tossing her in there is going to be useful?"

"I think that on the job training is very important," Fury temporized.

Flicking her eyes from the file to Fury's satisfied expression, Natasha slowly began to smile. "I see what you're doing." She leaned back in her seat and folded her hands with a contented smile on her face. "Interns always do excessive amounts of reading and study. They're eager to hone their skills. They entertain stupid risks because they don't know that they're stupid yet. And it will be the perfect foil. Loki would be insulted with getting a trainee as a therapist, but he also would feel superior enough with her to gloat and leave hints. Bellington has experience but zero empathy. He would be able to pick out things in supervision, and still get cut down, buoying up Loki's ego enough to keep playing the game."

"So you approve."

"Why would it matter if this plan has my approval?"

"Because it can't be seen to be mine." Fury placed his elbows on his desk and steepled his hands in front of his face. "There are those that wouldn't look kindly on my interference."

"They'd be even less kind with mine."

"No one else on the Avengers is capable enough to ride herd over this mess."

"So it's Avengers business now?"

Fury smiled thinly. "Well, what do you do when there is no SHIELD?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "We both know that—"

"We don't know if those holding cells will be enough," Fury said flatly. "We don't have a means to test them, and not enough secure facilities that could possibly hold him. But you got in his head, and you were able to make him talk. More than anyone else, you can predict Loki's moves and can keep an eye on things."

She looked over the files for Robert Bellington and Shannon Tran. "Who do they think they work for, then?"

"They're on loan from SHIELD," Fury replied. "If Thor visits, he is not to interact with Loki at all until you think it's safe."

Nonplused, Natasha stared at Fury. "I decide that," she intoned.

"Asgard got the Tesseract and sent Loki back. They can handle weapons of mass destruction and energy, and can't handle the sociopath they raised," Fury pointed out. "So no, Thor doesn't get to decide when he talks to his brother. He doesn't get to decide anything. They signed over full custody to us, and I'm making you the designee."

Her shoulders drooped slightly. "So there isn't any undercover op, is there?"

"Made a bet with Barton?" Fury asked, a thread of amusement in his voice.

"And Hill," Natasha admitted. "I guess I lost that bet after all."

"Take heart, Romanoff," Fury said, straightening up in his seat. "The mission has only just started. There might be undercover work yet."

***

A separate facility had been built in Putnam County, several hours' drive north of New York City. It was a sprawling complex that originally had been part of the Science Division before the Battle of New York. Chitauri tech had been sent there at first, before SHIELD higher ups decided that the technology needed to be examined at an even more closely guarded and secured facility. A fair number of techs remained, working on armor and communications devices, which left an entire wing empty. It had been reinforced with vibranium and several layers of sensors and ballistics plating. That had come in handy with Chitauri tech, and some of the scientists felt that it should work well to prevent Loki's escape.

When Fury laid out terms for Loki's imprisonment, Thor's only comment was that his mother would provide additional security measures. Those measures turned out to be a pair of gold wrist cuffs inscribed with runes. They were three inches wide and looked decorative, but felt heavier than they looked and seemed to radiate power even to those unable to practice magic.

"Form _and_ function," Natasha commented, feeling the cuffs when Thor had handed them over. They were thin, open at one end, and had no obvious way to seal and remain in place once they were put on.

Thor's expression was a little wan and sickly. "Many magical items have a terrible beauty all their own. My mother made those, and she says it will bind his magic."

"You're not comfortable with that idea," she observed, running her finger over the edge of the cuff. She flashed him a sympathetic look. "It won't be torture."

"I don't understand how it got this far," Thor said quietly. "We played as boys. He was always full of tricks and mischief. Where did it go so wrong?"

"Maybe that's something we can find out. Is there anything like therapy on Asgard?" At his blank look with the term, she explained "Talking about problems and trying to figure out how best to solve them."

"Ours is a culture of battle and action. We provide order within the Nine Realms," he said, expression earnest and open. "Asgard is meant to be a shining beacon of hope."

Sometimes it was hard to see the shadows if the light was too bright, but that was a concept for spies to work with, not warrior princes. Natasha wasn't terribly close with Thor, and didn't know how well he would understand her explanation. Not because she thought he was the oaf that Loki called him, but because of the differences in their upbringing and position. Thor was the kind of person that liked to think the best of everyone, and continued to hold hope of repairing broken relationships and fixing entire worlds.

"Not everything needs a hammer," she said instead.

Thor gave her a rueful look. "But enough problems do, I have seen."

"Careful, Thor," Natasha told him a smile, patting his arm gently. "If all you have is a hammer, everything starts looking like a nail."

He laughed. "I may not have heard this expression on Asgard, but I believe I understand its meaning. Such wonderful turns of phrase on Midgard." His expression sobered, and he put his hand on top of Natasha's as he sighed. "I will try to be patient, and put my faith in you and your organization. Whatever he says, Loki is still my brother, and I do care."

"We'll do our best," Natasha promised.

"That's all I ask."

***

"Ugh, why did I think I could _do_ this?!" Shannon cried, throwing herself backward onto the couch and covering her face with a throw pillow. "I'm not capable of being a secret agent!"

Her roommate Gina Skoglund rolled her eyes at Shannon. "Oh, come on, now. Didn't you say you had high test scores on your exams? And your supervisors all thought you did well when you took the practicals? You just need the hours to get the full state certification—"

"This isn't the same as working in a lab!" Shannon cried, pillow still pushed against her face. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

Both worked for SHIELD support staff, and had met when Shannon needed a place to stay closer to the facility and hadn't wanted to live with a civilian that wouldn't understand possible erratic work hours at the Putnam facility. Gina had put up an ad on the cafeteria bulletin board, and the two had hit it off right away. She was used to histrionics from her own highly dramatic siblings, one of whom was working Off Broadway. Gina hadn't ever expected Shannon, who was the very studious sort, to start wailing and feeling unsure of herself.

It was odd, and Gina definitely didn't like it. Part of her reasoning for even going into SHIELD in the first place was to get away from the melodrama of her family. Test tubes didn't scream or complain of situations that belonged on a soap opera.

"Think rationally," Gina told Shannon. "Isn't that what you tell me all the time?"

Shannon pulled the pillow away from her face and narrowed her eyes at Gina. "Are you making fun of me?"

Gina's lips twitched. "Maybe?"

"I don't think I even have the clearance level for this. I mean, _interplanetary war criminal._ How in the everliving world am I going to pull this off? It was bad enough my parents thought I was crazy for going into psych in the first place!"

"You have all those books for working in prisons..."

"Well, yeah. Forensics. Fascinating stuff," Shannon said with a sigh, sitting up and clutching the throw pillow to her stomach. That was at least an improvement from shoving it over her face, as far as Gina was concerned. "But you know, _Loki._ He tried to take over the world and destroyed a chunk of Manhattan. I'm just me. How am I going to go up against _that?"_

"You don't have magic, so I don't think you could," Gina replied. She laughed when Shannon tossed the throw pillow at her, catching it. "Shannon, you'll be fine. I don't think our supervisors would throw us under the bus."

"Supervisor," Shannon huffed. "I'm stuck with an ass."

Gina shot her a questioning look. "But you have one?"

"Roger Bellington." At Gina's blank look, Shannon sighed. "As in, head of the department Dr. Roger Bellington, he of three Ph.D's, four books and a couple dozen academic papers in forensic psychology. Considered a national expert."

"Ah," Gina said with an understanding nod. "That would be like me working with Yarborough."

"Exactly," Shannon agreed with a sigh. "I'm going to go insane. Why did I think I could do this?"

"You're smart, you have backup and this is going to be way more interesting than if you decided to do your clinicals at Riker's Island."

Shannon sighed again. "I guess so. I have to meet with Agent Romanoff tomorrow to go over the full schedule for sessions and supervision. I think she plans to sit in or observe via camera."

Gaping at Shannon, Gina threw the pillow back at her. "Natasha Romanoff? As in, the Black Widow? You get to work with the Black Widow?!"

"Not really?" Shannon squeaked. The pillow had hit her right in the head, and she pursed her lips at Gina. "I'm the one that'll be one on one with Loki."

"But you get to talk to the Black Widow!" Gina squealed. "You have to tell me all about it!"

"Technically, I shouldn't have even told you this much! Confidentiality clauses!"

Gina waved it off. "C'mon, you're talking in generalities here. And I doubt you're going to spill any interplanetary secrets to me. Though if you do, that'll be awesome." She grinned at Shannon and leaned closer to the couch from the armchair, eyes sparkling. "Find out if she likes ladies, will you?"

Shannon groaned. "I am _not_ going to ask that!"

"C'mon," she said in a wheedling tone. "You've seen the news footage of her fighting the Chitauri. She's hot. Even straight girls would go gay for her."

Covering her face in her hands, Shannon groaned again. "You're terrible. I shouldn't have become a psychologist."

"More interesting than law school or pharmacy school," Gina pointed out. "And you're too squeamish for dissections in med school."

"My parents would've been happy with accounting, maybe?"

 _"You_ would've been so unhappy with numbers," Gina said. She moved over to sit beside Shannon and threw an arm around her shoulders. "This is the nerves talking. I'm sure there are all sorts of plans in place. They're not going to throw a civilian into danger. I mean, I know we're SHIELD and all, but we're not fighters. We're like, backup people. Paper pushers. We're not front line danger people. You'll be fine."

Shannon nodded and sighed. "Okay, okay. You're right. I'm just nervous."

"You'd be out of your mind if you weren't."

"Thanks."

"But seriously? If the Black Widow dates ladies, give her my number."

"Gina!"

It brought a smile to Shannon's face and wasn't even a lie. Win-win situation in Gina's book.

***

Shannon apparently hadn't arrived early enough at the Putnam facility. Bellington was already leaving the containment area, a grim and irritated expression on his face. He was tall and knife thin, all angles and sharp edges. Someone had once said his nose could be described as patrician, which Shannon always assumed was nicer than saying _beaky._ He had the large almost hooked nose that seemed more like a parrot's beak, and his eyes always seemed narrowed as if he was smelling something sour. He had on one of his black tailored suits that conformed to his thin physique, his black hair slicked back. He had a white shirt and navy blue tie on, the only splash of color on his otherwise monochrome form.

In contrast, Shannon had pulled her hair back in a French braid, with her bangs cut straight across her forehead. Her face was wide and round, her brown eyes circled with eyeliner in a perfect cateye she was sure she would never, ever, ever be able to replicate again. Her pantsuit was gray, and she wore a scarlet blouse with pearl buttons. Her lips were bright red in a color that Gina had assured her was a perfect imitation of Agent Carter's back in the day. She had worn it for an extra confidence boost.

Bellington turned his sour look to her. "You will certainly have your hands full. This was a mistake, assigning a trainee to this case."

No greeting, no words of encouragement. Her stomach sank as he stalked off without another word, spine stiff with suppressed anger.

Well shit, this wasn't good.

She headed into the anteroom and swiped her ID badge against the maglock. Natasha Romanoff was inside, dressed in jeans and a red shirt just a shade lighter than Shannon's. Her makeup was a little more understated than Shannon's, but Shannon had the olive complexion of her Vietnamese heritage and Natasha had the pale Rus skin tone to work with.

"Um. Hi. I'm Dr. Tran," Shannon said, hoping she didn't sound like an idiot. It was the first time she had formally introduced herself since getting her Ph.D., and it still felt awkward. It wasn't as if she was on the same level as Bellington, after all, but they were supposed to be colleagues. Well, Bellington was her supervisor. But still a colleague in the world at large.

Natasha actually gave her a warm smile. "Come on in. You can call me Agent Romanoff if you plan to stick to formalities."

"You mean we don't have to?" Shannon blurted, coming into the room to shake her hand. "Oh, thank God. I don't think Dr. Bellington is looking forward to working here."

"No, probably not. He decided to start early."

Shannon frowned as she sat down in the seat kitty corner to Natasha's at the conference table. It was a little intimidating at first, but Shannon tried to think of it as taking mental notes to tell Gina later once she was back home. That made it a little bit easier.

"That is against the protocol established in the information packet we were given."

She gave Shannon a smile that had a curl of amusement in it. "Yes, it is. Why do you think he would do something like that?"

Not knowing Bellington well, Shannon only frowned more deeply. "I don't know."

"Come on, Shannon, think." At Shannon's blink of surprise, Natasha leaned in a little closer and had a commiserating expression on her face. "I hope you don't mind me calling you by your first name without your explicit say so. But we're going to be working together, and honestly, the Agent and Doctor business is going to get old really fast."

Shannon licked her lips nervously and let out a slow breath. "I don't know Dr. Bellington well," she began slowly. "I only met him once at a SHIELD social last year, and he really looked like he hadn't wanted to be there."

"You don't have to be polite with me, Shannon." That was definitely amusement in her eyes. "I think you've lived through quite a bit, and you're far more aware of things than you want to let on. I'm counting on that for this. You know who your patient is, and it's going to be important to observe what he doesn't say as well as what he does say."

"Dr. Bellington is important in the department. He's considered a national expert. As much as he's been given lead on this, it's in a supervisory capacity. He's not going to be the one to really do the full analysis. He probably came in early to try to do some initial work on his own." Shannon paused. "Given how he looked while leaving, it didn't go very well."

"Not at all."

"So now what?"

"Now it's your turn," Natasha said gently. "I've gone over the profiles, and run the analyses. I've seen your transcripts." Shannon tried not to feel ill at that. "I'm here as your backup, and there are security measures in place. I won't be in the room with you, and you don't exactly have full confidentiality with your patient. But you will be doing whatever kind of treatment you think will be appropriate in this case, and you have full run."

Natasha's grin was conspiratorial. "And if Bellington isn't a good enough supervisor, I can get him reassigned and find someone better to work with."

Shannon gaped at her. "You can do that?"

"If I need to, I will. So don't feel as though you have to second guess your own judgment, okay?"

Blowing out a slow breath, Shannon nodded. "Okay."

Time to get this show on the road.

***  
***


	2. Getting The Story

The cell was fairly large as cells went, a ten by fifteen rectangle of plain gray textured walls, with a low wall on one side blocking the view from the glass that likely allowed some privacy for the toilet and sink. The bed was bolted to one wall, and there was a desk and single chair bolted to another. Much of the space was empty, and Loki was seated in the very center of it, crosslegged and staring out at the glass with his jaw set. His hair hung in somewhat greasy clumps, his clothing was rumpled and still layered, but not armored as it had been in the footage of the Battle of New York. His feet were bare, and the hands on his knees seemed a moment away from curling into fists.

Shannon knew that the glass was reinforced, that it was Hulk-level strength, and that even Thor had difficulty with breaking it. It was still intimidating.

"Hello, Loki," Shannon began with a pleasant expression on her face despite her nerves. "My name is Dr. Shannon Tran. I am your court ordered therapist."

"Not going to pretend you're my friend?" Loki sneered.

Huh. She could work with this.

Shannon saw the plain table and chair that had been placed across from the glass wall of his cell, and moved toward it. She hadn't brought anything to write with, as she didn't really expect much of worth from a first meeting. Next time, she was bringing her portfolio and taking reams of notes, because she wasn't sure if she could rely on getting the video footage to create process and progress notes from.

She moved the chair closer to the glass wall and primly sat down. "I'm not your friend, Loki," she said plainly. "I'm your therapist. This means we may discuss some very personal, private things. My job here is to understand your state of mind and help you understand it yourself."

Loki drew his lips back in a snarl and his hands fisted on his knees. She caught a flash of gold beneath the long sleeves of his green shirt, but didn't break eye contact. This was the important part, to establish the boundaries of their talks. It was even more important for Shannon because she didn't want to feel like an idiot.

And honestly, he probably felt the same way.

"You think you can comprehend _me?_ That you could offer me any assistance?"

Tilting her head to the side in a contemplating position, Shannon lifted the corner of her mouth in a rueful expression. "Can't I? You're the one that got caught and put in jail."

He let out a string of invective in some language that Shannon didn't know, so she obviously hit a nerve with that one. Damn. It remained to be seen if that was a good or bad thing, and her gut couldn't help but twist.

"Most of the time," Shannon began as his voice died down, "I ask 'How can I help you today?' to start off a session." She looked at her watch in an obvious way, taking note of the time. "We have a certain amount of time today, and from what I understand, Asgard doesn't have therapy, so this might be a new concept."

"I understand quite well what the concept is," Loki snarled, eyes flashing with anger. "The prior agent made it perfectly clear."

"Hm." Shannon nodded absently, swallowing back a wave of nausea. She smoothed her pant legs for something to do to calm herself. "I'm not privy to that conversation," she said flatly, "but it has nothing to do with what our work is going to be."

"Work," he scoffed.

"I will need to obtain a full history," Shannon began. "It might bring up some bad memories in order to do so. It's not my intention to go down a road that might traumatize you, so we won't go into details on that, at least not in the beginning. When I complete the history taking, then we can establish a set of treatment goals."

Loki's lip curled in derision. "Treatment goals," he echoed.

"Certainly. I have training in cognitive behavioral therapy and some in dialectical behavioral therapy. Those usually come into use most in a forensic setting like this, though there's certainly a lot of supportive therapy that can come into play." Shannon flashed him a smile, because on this point she was confident. "So what we do really depends on what your goals are. Do you want to understand your psyche and your motivations better? Are there behavior patterns that you want to change? Do you need to learn how to cope with emotions better?"

His eyes were sharp as he contemplated her for a moment. "You aren't joking."

"Of course not!" Shannon cried, indignant. "I take this very seriously!"

He assessed her for so long that her skin was starting to crawl, but his hands opened and laid flat on his knees again. "I see. It could be that you're part of an elaborate plot. They could be lying to you, too."

Shannon shrugged. "Could be. I work for SHIELD, and I'm sure there are a number of things I'm not privy to because I don't have the clearance level for it. But that won't stop me from doing my job the way it should be done."

"Oh? There's a wrong way to do it?"

"Absolutely. And I refuse to practice that way."

Amusement danced in his eyes then. Shannon was startled to see how similar the expression was to Natasha Romanoff's. On second thought, they were far too similar, weren't they? No wonder she was put in charge of this case.

"Well, then, by all means. Let's do this the right way." The amusement in his gaze had an almost sinister tone, but Shannon lifted her chin. "Then we'll see what kind of game this really is."

She'd won that first volley. Sort of. Her insides were quaking and full of Jell-O even though she smiled as if she was pleased with his pronouncement.

"Thank you. Let's begin."

***

"Tea. Earl Grey. Hot."

Shannon rolled her eyes at Gina. She had curled up on the couch in a SHIELD sweatshirt and jeans, psychology journal open in her lap and tea at her side. "Nerd."

"And so are you, if you caught the reference," Gina piped up, plopping onto the couch beside Shannon. She slung an arm around her shoulders, grinning. "So obviously you survived session one," she said.

"Oh my God, the man is more intimidating than doing orals!"

"Heh heh, _orals."_

"Doofus."

Gina giggled. "Gotcha to laugh, didn't it? C'mon, why don't you come out with us science nerds to The Watering Hole?"

"I don't know..."

"C'mon, we all signed release forms in triplicate, and I'm sure SHIELD vetted all of the bar staff. Not that we'd ever talk shop anyway. The whole point of going out is to _not_ talk shop and decompress for a bit."

"I don't drink."

"So have root beer. Promise, they have that kind of beer, too."

Shannon sighed. "Is that creepy Nigel going to be there?"

"Maybe. But I promise we'll run interference."

"In that case..."

Gina gave her a squeeze. "Perfect. You don't even have to change, since we're all going in casual wear, too."

Closing the journal, Shannon finished her tea in a few gulps. "I'm still putting on lipstick."

Playfully clutching at her chest, Gina laughed. "You talked to your Mom today."

"Always dress like a lady," they chorused.

"I needed a pick me up."

"Totally understandable. You survived your first day, so let's celebrate."

Shannon rolled her eyes. "You celebrate everything."

"Because everything deserves celebrating, right?"

"Okay, fine," she said in a grudging tone, but she did smile at Gina.

What could it hurt, right?

***

Natasha walked into the anteroom outside Loki's cell. He was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall, pointedly ignoring her. She sat down in the chair and calmly folded her hands in her lap. She could wait as long as she needed to, and Loki seemed to grasp that after a few minutes of tense silence.

"Come to gloat, little spider?" he asked, voice raw and scratchy.

"No. I would appreciate it if you called me Agent Romanoff."

He turned to her, expression full of disdain. "To gloat, then. That your agency has me locked away. I'm sure that I'm supposed to be grateful that I'm not held in chains."

"Which would be the Asgardian way."

Loki's lip curled in derision. "Of course."

"We must seem so primitive to you."

"Indeed. Much of the so-called advances in technology are rather quaint. I've recalled playing with such things as a young child."

Natasha smiled thinly; she was glad Tony wasn't here, or he would take it as such an insult and say something rash. "Our worlds don't contain the same level of technology. It must have been such a hardship to adapt."

"When needs must," he muttered, looking away from her.

"Is it worse without any technology?"

"The hospitality here leaves much to be desired."

"Ah." Humor. He'd used it when they had all surrounded him in the tower as well, and maybe it worked on Asgardians. "How are Asgard prisons set up?"

"Much the same as this."

"So this isn't very different from what they had planned for you."

"Does that shock you?" he asked, no inflection in his tone.

"No. I think it explains why they're so ill equipped to deal with a mind like yours, actually," Natasha commented idly, crossing her arms over her chest. "They don't know how to deal with you, and sitting in solitude with nothing as a distraction is torture." There was a slight twitch in his jaw. "That's been outlawed as inhumane on earth."

"How fortunate for prisoners here."

Natasha didn't take the acid in his tone personally. "Many also truly believe in the rehabilitation of prisoners, so that they won't reoffend upon release."

"How wonderfully euphemistic," Loki sneered, lip curled as he glared at her.

She allowed a small smile at that one. "It is, isn't it? That does surprise me about Asgard. I would have thought they would be so enlightened compared to our world."

"Asgard is the pinnacle of all realms," Loki replied, and it sounded almost like a rote saying. "All look up to its example."

"Yet they would lock away criminals and throw away the key. They would never try to better them."

"Much are incapable of such things."

"Oh, I find it very difficult to believe that they couldn't recognize even a kernel of good within the ones they lock away."

"Yet you fail to recognize your betters or obey your masters."

"That's the thing about this realm. Every culture thought it superior to another one, and none would ever submit. They call it human nature."

He made a contemptuous sound and looked away from her. "Humans court death, then."

"How so?"

"There are those spineless mortals aching to be ruled. But those that do not revel in their folly and may be cut down."

"Poetic. Did you think you were saving us from ourselves? Cow the masses into falling under your rule?"

"I was raised a Prince," he replied icily.

"Not all princes on this world actually care about their subjects."

"Poor rulers like that deserve to fall."

Natasha shrugged. "Not going to disagree with you on that front. But it should be the choice of the ruled, not an outside faction swooping in. Otherwise, they learn nothing."

Loki looked at her in scorn. "They are incapable of it."

"Yet we banded together in New York. Even Thor says there's much to learn here."

"He is an oaf that never learns."

"He still loves you."

If she hadn't been looking for it, she would have missed his flinch. "An oaf still, as I said."

"Or simply refusing to give up hope."

"There is none for monsters."

Natasha let the silence stretch out to an uncomfortable, unbearable length. But he remained silent, so this was a trick he had used himself. She rose, which caught his attention, and there was almost a look of bleak despair in his eyes.

"Dr. Tran put in a request for materials to be given to you. Notebooks, pen, books, that kind of thing." Natasha smiled at his incredulous look. "She seems to be very caring."

"She's new."

"You don't hate her," Natasha observed.

"It's silly, how she hides her fear of me."

"Not really. It's her job."

"Her job is to feign caring for another."

Smiling at his disbelief, Natasha shook her head. "Her job is to find something likeable and teach you how to find it for yourself. A tall order, but I think she'll rise to the challenge."

Natasha left at that pronouncement, a speechless Loki behind her.

***

"You intend to take notes," Loki observed when Shannon entered the observation room with a portfolio. It had a legal pad and a few pens tucked inside, as well as a manila folder stuffed full of her prior notes.

"Of course," Shannon replied, sitting at the table. She gave him her professional smile as she set up her work space. "I did mention that I would."

"And you won't show me what you write."

"It's a summary of what you tell me," she said, tilting her head to the side in silent query. "I've never been to Asgard, so I don't assume that I would know where everything is."

He considered her for a moment, expression carefully neutral. "But even if we discussed New York again, which you know about, you will take notes."

"Accuracy," she told him.

"So you can keep track of the lies and stories you tell."

Shannon leaned back in her chair a bit, and observed Loki more closely. His hair wasn't as greasy as the first time she had met him, so he had bothered to shower in these rather sparse facilities. The clothes were essentially the same, but appeared to fit a bit better. She could see the flash of the gold cuffs under the edge of his sleeves, which Natasha had reassured her limited his magic. "He can't even do a simple light spell, we're told. I don't know how magic works, but he hasn't tried anything in that cell past banging on the glass a few times the first day."

"The mentions of Loki in Norse mythology all call him a trickster figure. A liar. One full of mischief and mayhem. He undoes quite a bit of it, but usually he started it in the first place. I am told that much of Norse mythology was based on your family and the interactions that they had with humanity thousands of years ago." Loki remained silent, expressionlessly watching her as she spoke. Shannon sat up a bit straighter in her chair, almost able to hear her mother's admonition to keep her back straight. "Norse mythology and Asgardian history likely aren't the same, or anything close to it. Plus, I'm not versed in Norse mythology past what Wikipedia says, and that's only a summary. If I need to, I'm sure that I can find an expert who can go over the texts with me. Do I need to?"

"Do you need to what?" Loki asked, a sullen note to his voice when she didn't continue.

"Explore Norse mythology first? Is there a kind of entrance exam before speaking with you about your childhood? A compare and contrast with what humans got right and wrong?"

He picked up on the sarcastic undertone in her words. "You mock me."

She folded her hands primly over her blank legal pad. "You discredit me and my profession."

Loki sat on the floor in the middle of his cell, legs crossed. "So we are to be at an impasse."

"That's the easy way out," Shannon disagreed. "That's just lazy." He bristled at the words, just as she thought he might, and she rushed to speak before he could say something cutting. "I would think that you'd want to tell me your side of the story. Whatever is on the internet is all filtered and probably not true." She let the corner of her mouth quirk up. "I'm fairly certain you don't shape shift and haven't given birth to an eight-legged horse, so you'll have to correct me if I'm wrong about that."

The shock and irritation on his face was almost priceless, and Shannon managed not to laugh.

"What tripe is that?" he snapped, jaw set. "Lies! All of it!"

She spread her hands wide in a helpless shrug. "See? This is why I like talking with people directly, get their stories. It's too jumbled up and probably wrong otherwise."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're trying to get me to do what you want."

"I can put in a request for a book on Norse mythology to be given to you. Or a print out of the Wiki article. I'm sure that'll probably be easier to authorize. But just so you don't think I'm making it all up..." Shannon went through the manila folder and retrieved a few printed out pages before moving to hold them up flat against the glass. "This is what I was reading the other day, and collecting the reference links to look up."

Loki reluctantly got up and went to the glass to peer at the words printed. At first he was aloof and condescending in his stance, but then his eyes widened fractionally and he stooped down to read them clearly. He huffed out a breath after a moment, then stood up as he turned away from the glass.

"So. Ball's in your court."

"A quaint idiom on your realm, I'm sure," he said in scathing tones, back ramrod straight and arms crossed as he still faced the back of his cell.

Shannon collected the sheets and went back to the desk to put them away. Once she was settled back in her seat, she folded her arms on the desk and sat patiently.

Five minutes passed in perfect silence. As much as it was tempting to sketch something on the pad or pick at a cuticle just to do _something,_ Shannon made herself stay still. She didn't speak, didn't do anything more than watch Loki's rigid posture.

When he cracked, he whirled around to face her. It wasn't anger, exactly. Maybe irritation and confusion mixed together, because he didn't know what she was about or how to categorize this kind of interaction. His eyes were still narrowed, and the expression on his face was clearly one of mistrust, as if _she_ was the trickster figure here.

"You would sit there and say nothing?" he demanded.

She shrugged in the face of that imperious tone. "Wouldn't be the first time I've done that in sessions. My record's forty-five minutes, by the way, so you haven't beat it. Maybe next week."

"It doesn't bother you," he murmured.

"Why should it?"

"Your job is to talk to me, you said."

"My job is to be your therapist. If you want to spend your weekly hour in silence, that's how we'll spend it."

He blinked, expression smoothing out into blankness. Shannon was starting to feel that it was his default expression if he didn't know what to do. Or maybe there was that smirking expression as his other default. She'd seen similar in other criminals before, covering up the feeling of fear or inadequacy with violence. Better to be angry and arrogant or resentful rather than afraid or confused. No weakness to be tolerated.

"Most of my other hours are silence."

"Is that what you want?"

The pause at her even tones was rather telling. "No," he said finally, voice soft.

"What _do_ you want?"

He sneered at her. "Out of here."

"Not an option."

He banged on the glass with his fist, lips pulled back in a rictus of anger. Shannon blinked and jerked in her seat, and had to tell herself this was nothing but a jump scare. He couldn't actually break the glass to harm her. There was no way she was going to become a warning for future SHIELD therapists.

"I am a god! I am a King! To be reduced to this!" Loki let out a growl of frustrated anger and turned away from her again, pacing his cell with jerky steps. When Shannon didn't say anything, he whirled around to face her. He snarled, and she waited in place. "I know you're afraid of me. You _should_ be afraid of me!"

"You're smarter than that," Shannon said quietly, though her adrenaline was spiking and every instinct was telling her to _run._ "You know that I am. Who wouldn't be? Do you need it said aloud to feel powerful?"

Loki banged on the glass again, this time not stopping at a single strike but continually banging on it. Shannon straightened in her seat, not sure what to do. His gaze wasn't on her, and this didn't seem to be a move to intimidate her. It seemed more self destructive, more like he would rather break himself apart than feel as though he had been brought low.

Just as she pushed her seat back and stood, Loki stopped, closing his eyes and leaning against the glass, chest heaving with every breath. Shannon approached slowly, even though the reinforced glass clearly could do its job well.

"You're mortal," he whispered when she stopped about a foot away from the glass. "This shouldn't matter. None of this should matter."

"Why?" she asked, voice just as soft. "Please tell me why."

He opened his eyes, a look of abject misery on his face. He lifted his fists and didn't even smile when she leaned backward slightly. The shirtsleeves fell, exposing the golden cuffs. She could see runes on them now, inscribed in an intricate design. Placing his fists against the glass, his heaving breaths continued.

"How much of you is magic?" Shannon asked.

"It's everything to me. Everything."

"Will you explain it to me? So I can understand?"

"That's a useless endeavor."

"All anybody ever wants is to feel understood," Shannon told him, taking a step closer, keeping her gaze locked to his. "If we understand, we can help."

"Or control."

"I'm not dumb enough to think I can control you," Shannon replied wryly. "I don't think anyone can, and it's stupid to try. Even without your magic, you're still dangerous, and we both know that." That didn't seem to appease him at all. Hesitantly, she lifted a hand and touched a fingertip to the glass near a cuff. "I don't understand those. I don't know about magic, or why it's so important. We don't have that here."

"Barbaric backwater world," he said, but there was no heat in his tone.

"Tell me about Asgard, then. How is it better? What does it look like? How do you even get there from here? I always thought it was a story before."

Loki leaned forward, his forehead against the glass between his fists. The breath left him as he shut his eyes for a moment, shoulders slumping forward. "Where to begin?" he murmured, not opening his eyes.

"Wherever you feel comfortable. It's your story."

"I was a prince," he said, eyes opening. There was a bleak, lost expression on his face. "I had everything I thought I wanted."

Shannon shot him an encouraging smile and a half nod. "What was that like?"

His breath hitched painfully, and his shoulders seemed to curl in as he began to speak.

Progress. She could work with that.

***  
***


	3. Rocking The Boat

Robert Bellington's office was rather imposing to Shannon. It had the usual inoffensive cream colored walls and dark colored shelving stuffed full of books and reference texts. One side of the wall was plastered with framed diplomas, awards, and certificates, making her feel about five inches tall. His desk was a massive formal mahogany one, with a rather plush chair for him to sit in and observe. The seats opposite his own chair were in a matching fabric, but not quite so ornate and probably not as comfortable.

Who the fuck would feel comfortable enough to talk about themselves in an office like this?

Shannon held her tongue and waited for Bellington's cue to begin. He had been on the phone when he impatiently waved her in, even though she was ten minutes early for her first supervision session. It should have been insulting to be treated this way, but Shannon felt duly mortified, as if she was a teenager caught sneaking into the house four hours after curfew. She had never done such a thing, of course. Her early life had been studying, reading an assortment of studious topics for fun, working in libraries, or staying with her family and the friends they had in the Vietnamese community in New York. It was a sprawling kind of community, stratified by who they knew as much as their background.

Shit, that's what this reminded her of. It was like facing a dozen aunties at a Tet celebration, all of whom would judge her clothing, hairstyle and manners, then pass judgment on whether or not her mother was a good one or not. The endless primping and lecturing before the parties had turned her stomach, and it was _never_ as bad as her mother feared it would be. Everyone had thought she was smart and polite, and laughed pleasantly about her appetite for sweets at the parties. It had never been as dreadful as the anticipation, and that was precisely where Shannon's emotions were caught in that moment.

Bellington's expression tightened, and so did Shannon's gut. This was _not_ a good start to the supervision process, but how badly would it look if she asked for a different supervisor? Plus, this was _the_ Bellington. He was the expert, not her.

He snapped a terse goodbye and hung up with probably a little more force than was strictly necessary. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his hands on his stomach and looked at her. The full effect of that beaky stare was intimidating as hell. Shannon almost wished she was a hardened criminal, because then she wouldn't have to fight off the urge to squirm.

"Tell me about the sessions you had so far."

As soon as Shannon opened her mouth to begin speaking, Bellington held up a hand. "You _do_ know how to make a case formulation, don't you?"

The condescension was appalling, and Shannon tilted her chin down in challenge. "I am sure you have gone over my credentials."

"Such as they are."

Oh _hell_ no. She worked _hard_ on her Ph.D., dammit, she earned that title and she had gone through hours of supervision already. She had endured countless "Why would you ever want to study _that?"_ from aunties that thought her work involved straightjackets and barbed wire asylums from horror movies. It was one thing to be intimidated by someone revered as a living legend, it was entirely another to be treated as if she was a criminal herself.

"I am aware of the training I've had and the accolades that you have," Shannon said, voice remarkably even despite the adrenaline spike. "But this is not going to continue."

He gave her a look that was at once doubting, shocked and disdainful. She could never manage a look like that, and it would never occur to her to even try.

"We are here as professionals to discuss a patient. If you're going to turn it into grandstanding at every opportunity, we can't work together."

Oh holy fuck, did she just say that?

By the way his eyebrows were crawling up toward his hairline, yes, she did.

It was tempting to shrivel and grovel and ask him to forgive her for speaking out of turn, just as she used to do as a child with her parents. But this culture didn't work that way, and she was not going to back off from this. Maybe she was overly sensitive to the perceived slight; she was a woman and a minority, and maybe he didn't mean anything by it. Her back was up, though, and some part of her wanted to rear up and shout at him to respect her.

Bellington was silent for a long time, weighing the words he would use to speak with her. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? She wasn't going to break the silence first, though. She had two older siblings, she knew how to play the quiet game.

"It was a mistake to have a trainee take on a case like this," Bellington said finally. "I'll certainly discuss that with the Director."

Shannon's jaw tightened. "I have one thousand out of the three thousand five hundred supervised hours toward state licensure. With my completed doctorate, I'm hardly a trainee."

He waved her off in a dismissive manner, not even meeting her eyes. "Minor detail."

She stood abruptly, managing not to shake with her anger and adrenaline. "As a professional in the field, you _know_ this is not a minor detail and that your behavior is out of line. As a _person,_ you are inhumane. If this is about not taking the lead on Loki, by all means, discuss that with the Director, since this was _his_ choice. There is no call for you to displace that anger on me."

Now he met her gaze, and it was hardly sympathetic. "Get out of my office."

"Gladly."

She didn't slam the door, as tempting as it was, but she leaned against the wall outside of the office, her entire body shaking. _Oh shit. Oh fuck. I just destroyed my career before it's even begun. I'm supposed to be better than that_ mất dạy.

Shannon covered her mouth with one hand and clutched her planner and portfolio to her stomach as she felt nauseous. How was she supposed to fix this?

"You don't look so good," Natasha Romanoff said, sitting idly across the hall from Bellington's office. "Don't tell me that supervision went _that_ badly."

"I just fucked up my career," Shannon whispered, shaking.

If anything, Natasha seemed impressed by that. "Hm. Let's get a coffee, and you can tell me how that all went down." Though her voice was even, her eyes seem to sparkle.

Natasha led her to the cafeteria and bought her a coffee and bagel with cream cheese. She had the same, and steered Shannon to a corner of the cafeteria, her back to the wall so she could keep an eye on all exits at once. It was probably second nature, since Shannon didn't think she was deliberately being used as a human shield. Sipping her coffee, she slowly outlined the very brief conversation in Bellington's office. A few times she dropped a Vietnamese curse word; it used to be funny for her to use them, since no one would know what she said when upset, but now it ceased to be funny. 

"I'm supposed to be better than that _đủ má,"_ Shannon said in disgust. "I mean—"

"He's an authority figure. So you're supposed to treat him with respect," Natasha said quietly, picking up her coffee cup to sip at it. Shannon gestured toward her in an _exactly!_ motion, and she smiled thinly. "Of course, in most cultures, the elder doesn't actually have to earn that respect, they just get it."

Shannon nodded grimly. "I still need over two thousand hours to get certified, and he's the only supervisor here that has the proper clearance level."

"I can be your supervisor."

She goggled at Natasha, bagel poised comically a few inches from her mouth. "Wait, what?"

"I had a feeling it was going to go this way, so I spoke to Director Fury about it. I thought Bellington wouldn't be a good fit in this case, but it's turned out worse than we thought."

"You're not licensed. The state of New York—"

"We'll work out the logistics. But in terms of needing someone to discuss the nuances of Loki, that's the point of the supervision you needed."

"Well, yes. But for licensing purposes, that won't work."

"Loki shouldn't be your only patient right now, anyway. We can find you a different supervisor to cover those, and that way you can get your hours."

"You've thought about this," Shannon murmured numbly, finally realizing her bagel was still midair. She took a small bite and chewed, but she didn't taste it this time.

"Of course. All contingencies need to be covered."

"But—"

"I got into his head on the helicarrier," Natasha said, voice quiet. Her eyes flicked briefly around the cafeteria, but no one was paying attention to them. "That's what you need. Additional insight, someone to bounce ideas off of. A license doesn't guarantee you that kind of skill."

"No, it doesn't," Shannon agreed. She took another bite, chewing slowly as she thought. "The people who know about this necessarily has to be small."

"Yes."

"I don't have much yet, we've just started." She felt the need to apologize for herself, echoes of _trainee_ still bouncing around in the back of her head.

Natasha gave her an encouraging smile. "We all start somewhere."

Warmed by the thought, Shannon returned the smile. "Thank you." She paused at Natasha's nod and continued smile. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Do you like women? Romantically, I mean," Shannon asked, then realized how it sounded. "Not for me, it's my roommate, she asked me... _aiya,_ I'm making a hash of this, sorry..."

Natasha giggled – actually _giggled,_ she was going to have to tell Gina about that – and leaned back in her seat a bit while sipping her coffee. "I've dated women before."

"That's not exactly a yes or no answer."

"I'm a spy. Did you think you'd get one?" Natasha teased.

Teasing her? Gina would _drool_ about that when Shannon told her. She couldn't help but grin at Natasha, already feeling better about the earlier confrontation. "I suppose that's something else I'll have to work on, isn't it?"

"Priorities," Natasha reminded her, though her tone was light. Her eyes definitely sparkled with amusement as she sipped her coffee.

"Is there a private office to start the supervision, then?" she offered, patting the portfolio.

"Absolutely. Once you're done, we can start."

Armed with her process notes and annotations, Shannon and Natasha used the outer office of Loki's detention suite to do the supervision. Natasha had even carried the two large coffees along the way, stating "I figured this would be a lot less painful if we're both caffeinated." She pulled up a chair to sit next to Shannon after deposing the cups on the table. "On the surface, supervision seems no different from status reports and mission debriefs."

"Well, you're not wrong," Shannon replied, reaching for a cup.

Starting from session one, Shannon described the interactions she had thus far. "He needs the illusion of control," she summarized. "Or being important and powerful in some way. I think he likes it when I'm afraid of him."

"Sounds about right," Natasha commented wryly.

"I think he's desperately lonely, disappointed in himself and everyone else around him. There are such high expectations he has of himself, and what he thinks others want from him."

"That's a recipe for disaster," Natasha observed. "If expectations are too high, it's only going to set him up for failure. He'll overreach, and won't be able to cope when it falls apart."

"Part of it is probably how he was raised as a prince. We started to get into that a little bit, especially in the context of his magic skill. Most of the first session was rambling about the Battle of New York and how he never should have failed. But it didn't sound exactly right, I don't know why. I don't know him well enough to guess."

"But if you had to guess," Natasha pressed. She sipped at her coffee. "That's the point of supervision, after all. You have theories, something you're working from."

Shannon drummed her fingers on the table. Maybe she was still shaken from the confrontation earlier, maybe she was just doubting herself because she was discussing an interdimensional criminal with Natasha freaking Romanoff. Either way, her brain completely blanked out.

Taking a breath, Shannon thought for a moment, then decided this was a safe enough place to think aloud. That was rather the point, after all.

"He was raised in a warrior culture," Shannon began slowly. "He's dangerous and deceitful, but his skills aren't seen in the same light as full on melee battles. There's something he's not telling me about why he hates himself so much, because I don't think that's it."

"You think he hates himself."

"It's the way he talked about some of the elements growing up, the use of past tense. I _was_ a prince of Asgard. I _was_ considered gifted. I _was_ got repeated a lot, and it doesn't ring the same way it would for a younger son that felt like he didn't live up to the expectations of the jock older brother, you know? There's some other hurt there, something maybe I don't know about because I don't really know how Asgard works."

"So that's something to look into. I'm not sure if Thor would be willing to discuss the workings of an entire other realm, but even if he does, that's his interpretation."

Nodding, Shannon took a sip of the coffee. "I think he was listening when I explained the concept of CBT, but he didn't bother to copy any of the relaxation exercises."

"I'm sure there are similar concepts on Asgard."

"Maybe. It's just... Maybe because I was raised between two cultures, but I have the feeling there's something big I'm missing here. Something huge. It's more than just feeling as though he didn't belong. I can't put my finger on it."

"Why do you think it has something to do with being raised with different cultures?"

Shannon paused for a moment. "I'm not white, and I grew up in a pretty whitebread neighborhood. Some things, I will never just understand like it's normal, just as they'd never understand some of what I think of as normal. So it gives a sense of oddness. A kind of wrongness like I don't belong but I do. It's a weird feeling to try to explain, I think, and it feels like he's got that same kind of issue."

"We're going to need to talk to Thor."

"Collateral information is always important."

"That means we'll have to apply to get your clearance level raised," Natasha said with a grimace.

"But everyone knows Thor exists."

"He's probably going to discuss things outside your clearance level."

"Gotcha. Gotta do this by the book."

"We're doing this the right way," Natasha said, echoing Shannon's words to Loki with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Follow the rules, make sure we don't rack up any consequences. There are going to be a lot of eyes on this situation."

"You're not telling me something."

Natasha pursed her lips for a moment. "There is an entity called the World Security Council."

"Like the UN?"

"Smaller and more secret than the UN. Think of it as the spy version."

Shannon blinked. "I have a feeling this is going to be bad news."

"They want to have Loki able to pay for his crimes in some fashion. Apparently, there were crimes in other realms that he had committed as well."

"So rehabilitation really isn't on the table."

"It's the SHIELD agenda, at least. They kind of have a habit of collecting rogues and oddballs and turning them into agents." There was a hint of amusement in Natasha's eyes that Shannon didn't understand.

"The Council probably doesn't share that. Or has a time table that is ridiculously short."

Natasha grinned at her. "On the nose. No pressure, right?"

_"Trời ơi,"_ Shannon muttered. "So what's my actual time table?"

"We have until New York is rebuilt. At that time, there is supposed to be a very public trial before incarceration at a secure prison."

"Good luck with that."

"Find out whatever makes Loki tick, and we can lever that into an agent position. Or at least a consultant," Natasha amended at Shannon's incredulous look.

She was starting to think she should have taken the work at Riker's Island. It was bound to be less dangerous there than here with SHIELD.

***

Gina had indeed been delightfully giddy at the tidbits of information that Shannon had gleaned about Natasha Romanoff. "It wasn't a no, so maybe I have an actual chance." 

"Please tell me you're not that desperate."

Laughing, Gina shook her head. "Nah, but a girl can dream. C'mon, we're going out."

"I do have reading to do..."

"Not emergent," Gina insisted. "I need a wingman tonight."

"That horny?" Shannon teased.

"Maybe. Maybe not," she said, adding a playfully mysterious air to the words. "No, really, there's a rumor going around the science crowd about a particular club. I won't insult your intelligence by repeating them, but apparently people are dumb enough to try to get high off _anything,_ including Chitauri blood."

"Oh, ew, gross!"

"My plan, which you absolutely have to accept, is to accompany on a fact finding mission, maybe getting a sample of it for the lab."

"God, you science geeks are so weird."

Gina rolled her eyes. "Says the chick that thinks working with prison populations is cool."

Shannon chuckled. "I never said cool. I said _fascinating._ Because it is."

"As long as you don't think your pretty ball of crazy is a woobie in need of twu wuv to repair his broken heart." She wagged a finger at Shannon's incredulous laughter. "No, seriously. Stay off the internet, I swear. There are crazy people out there that are trying to say that Loki is simply misunderstood and not dangerous. I mean, duh! Look at Midtown and the death toll. That is not the work of sanity."

"Not gonna disagree," Shannon acknowledged with a nod. "But unfortunately for all of us, he's actually very sane."

Gina had a concerned expression on her face. "Just don't go down the rabbit hole in those sessions, you know? Like every bad Lifetime movie ever, okay?"

Shannon laughed and held up her hand. "Scout's honor."

"Dude, that's a Boy Scout thing, and you are obviously not a Boy Scout."

"Was never a Girl Scout, either."

"Too bad. Those cookies are the bomb."

Laughing harder, Shannon shook her head. "C'mon, let's go find your awful Chitauri blood drugs. The things that people do to their brains."

"Assuming they have any, of course."

"That's just mean."

"You were thinking it!" Gina crowed, grabbing her denim jacket.

"Why am I friends with you again?" Shannon teased.

"Out of sheer necessity," Gina declared. "If not, we'd've wanted to throttle each other. Going to clubs and The Watering Hole is way more fun."

"Don't let my mother hear you say that when she visits."

"I know, I know, you're so innocent and sweet for your parents." She rolled her eyes. "You're not actually a baby, they shouldn't treat you like one."

"Did you know any Vietnamese families growing up?"

"Nope."

"This is how they show their love. Trust me, it's not quite as infantilizing as it sounds."

"They call you _baby."_

"I'm the youngest. It was always the family nickname. I mean, they call my brother and sister the Viet word for girl and boy. It really isn't terrible."

"If you say so," Gina said, locking up as they left the house. "I guess it's a better nickname than 'Nosy' or 'Loudmouth.'"

"However did you get those?" Shannon snickered.

Gina rolled her eyes. "Okay, enough, you. Let's go hit that club and get some evidence, pretend we're field agents or something."

Shannon pushed away recollections of news reports regarding the damage and the cleanup in Manhattan. Working with Loki kind of made her a field agent, right?

If only the thought didn't make her feel vaguely nauseous.

***  
***


	4. The Language of Trust

Natasha watched the live video feed of Loki's cell. He had scribbled things in a particular notebook in what she assumed was an Allspeak script, but Thor didn't recognize the symbols at all. She hadn't been able to find references to those symbols, and Thor didn't even know who to ask to translate them when his mother was unable to recognize the ones that Natasha had painstakingly copied from screen shots. He hid the notebook beneath the mattress of his bed, so it had to be important, some kind of personal language to track his thoughts. There were sections to the book, different things he wanted to keep to himself. Sometimes after a session with Shannon Tran, there were frenzied periods of activity, writing furiously as if his life depended on it, tension in every sinew. At other times, he wrote with such viciousness that he all but shredded the paper with the ballpoint pen, then ripped them up and threw the pen at the wall.

Apparently, Shannon's work was triggering something.

She came in for her session, professionally dressed and setting up her own notebook, portfolio and pens. Today she had some worksheets for him, and Natasha watched in amusement as she went over the process of doing a situation analysis. Loki seemed bored by it, the earlier tension still evident beneath his skin, a hunger in his eyes that Natasha was sure Shannon was choosing to ignore.

Shannon was soft and quiet in her explanations, not rising to the cutting remarks that Loki was making about them. "So we'll take an incident that you're familiar with and work through it as an example," she continued, a slight smile at the corner of her mouth. "Let's start with what you were telling me the other day, while learning about magic."

Loki reacted with a snarl, throwing his pen across the room. "This is a waste of time!"

"What's frustrating about this, Loki?" she asked calmly, head tilted slightly in that classic pose of contemplation. She had blinked and slightly swayed back away from the glass at the outburst, but shoved down the feeling and kept right on going. Natasha approved of that.

His lips were pulled back in a rictus, his shoulders curled forward slightly. Interesting. He was at once making himself a smaller target and putting up a threatening pose. Natasha didn't think Loki was even aware of his own body language, the sound deep in his throat.

Natasha cued up the video of prior sessions until she found the one about the magic lesson in question. It was three weeks before, but Shannon hadn't even had to look back at her notes even though she had them at the desk. She tuned out the sound of Loki snarling and pacing, shouting at Shannon in Allspeak and English. That was easy to do, because it was all variation on the same theme that this was a ridiculous exercise and pointless to do while caged.

In the session three weeks before, Natasha saw the painfully open expression on Loki's face as he twisted his hands and curled his fingers to demonstrate the early ways he had needed to focus and cast his magic. His mother had been his teacher primarily, and he had taken to self study in her library a lot. There had been other casters, almost like coworkers of his mother's, and they had worked together at some instances. Shannon hadn't commented on the longing in his voice, the way his entire posture softened when he spoke of Frigga.

Her eyes skipped between screens, to the curl in his fingers, the way his hands were cocked as if he was trying to cast a spell even though he no longer could. It was almost instinctive by now, a twist and a cast, misdirection and a stab. If that pen had been a blade, it would have been deadly when aimed at someone else. Loki was dangerous, a creature caged and still feral, with only the shakiest of veneers holding him in place.

Thor had told them about Asgard, bits and pieces of the culture that Shannon had asked about in her efforts to understand his upbringing. It would probably wind up making her the leading expert on Asgardian culture on Earth, which would be daunting for the poor woman once she actually sat down and thought about it. She had an easy way of talking about her, and had put Thor at ease with the entire process and concept of therapy. Thor had little patience for the magical arts, and no real affinity to begin with.

"...strength of purpose. The energy to cast the spell is more than physical, more than mental. A working takes on the life of the caster, a piece of their soul," Loki was explaining to Shannon in the video from three weeks before. "Even temporary, shallow images can gain a semblance of life if there is strength of purpose and will enough."

"Do you remember what you learned that day?" Shannon asked out of curiosity on the video.

"A memory spell," he had answered, then turned away. "I don't remember much else."

Natasha suddenly chuckled. Oh, Shannon was clever. Lying in wait, then whipping out this exercise as another way to get to this particular memory. Something about it bothered Loki, even now, especially now. Was it truly a memory spell, or his way of trying to torment Shannon by saying he couldn't remember the memory spell?

"What do you feel right now?" Shannon was asking the present day Loki. He continued to pace with jerky steps, lips drawn back in a snarl, the very picture of rage. This was different from the controlled way he had stood in the cell on the helicarrier, his smile mocking everyone standing on the other side of the glass.

"Are you so simple you don't understand anger?" he mocked.

"I'm talking about beneath the anger," Shannon said, voice quiet. "The _real_ emotion there, the one you're covering up with the rage."

"There is nothing but rage!"

 _"Xạo lồn,"_ Shannon said sweetly, a huge smile on her face. Loki banged on the glass, and her smile didn't falter in the slightest. "Did you think you were the only one that knew other languages?"

Loki sputtered in Allspeak and Natasha laughed and put her feet up on her desk. Oh, yes, that spine of steel was definitely in there. Fury had chosen well from the lineup of psychology graduates that SHIELD had their eyes on.

"Now, if that's out of the way," Shannon said when Loki wound down, voice firm as if she was dealing with a wayward child, "what about the magic lesson is difficult to deal with?"

"You can't comprehend it," he spat.

"Oh, we've already established that my tiny mind can't comprehend magic," she said, with that same sugary sweet tone that was apparently grating on Loki's nerves. "But the magic isn't what upsets you, not really. It's important, sure, but it's not all you are. It's not all that makes the heart of you. So what _is_ the difficulty here?"

"This is stupid!"

"Yes, we've established that, too." She sounded infinitely patient, which was rather an accomplishment, given how much Loki was trying to goad her. Something about that lesson was bothering Loki, and Natasha made note of it on her legal pad much as Shannon was probably doing on hers.

He snarled something in Allspeak, and Natasha made another note to get a translator of some kind from Thor. Shannon had met with Thor once or twice since her clearance was increased, but she obviously didn't know the language.

Shannon shut her portfolio and started putting away her pen just as Natasha's office door opened and Fury walked in. "This isn't a social call," she commented, putting her feet back on the floor. On the screen, Loki was screaming at Shannon, hands curled into tight fists. It sounded less angry and more desperate, even if none of them could understand the actual words.

"Hardly. It's Barton. Think you can beat some sense into him?"

Natasha lofted an eyebrow at him. "What did he do now?"

"It's more what he _isn't_ doing now. He hasn't been off base once since he was cleared from medical after the Battle." Fury pursed his lips unhappily. "As far as I know, he hasn't even left the floor his quarters are on."

"And?" Natasha prompted when he fell silent.

"He assaulted the psychologist."

She managed not to sigh. "What unfortunate soul got saddled with Clint this time?"

"Bellington."

Natasha didn't even bother to hide rolling her eyes at Nick Fury. "That was asking for trouble, and you know it."

"He has the clearance level."

"You might as well have assigned Tran to him. She at least won't deliberately try to piss him off, and I get the feeling she's far more sensitive to a trauma background than Bellington."

"Anyone's more sensitive than Bellington. But he knows his shit, and we can't afford to let anyone screw up Barton's mind more than it was already."

 _Do you know what it's like for someone to go into your mind and just play?_ he'd asked, sounding so lost.

 _You know that I do._ Such a simple answer for a complicated history.

"Isn't there anyone else available?"

"O'Hanlon and Vallejo, probably. But he doesn't have a good track record with them, either."

In Natasha's ensuing silence, Loki's snarl had died down. "You don't understand," he was telling Shannon, a defeated cast to his voice. "You can't."

"The idea is to help me understand, not drive me away."

"You don't even want to be here."

"If I didn't, I would have left weeks ago. The difference is, I won't stand here and be yelled at in a language I don't know when I'm putting in more effort than you are." Her voice was firm and in control, even though Natasha knew full well that Shannon was still scared of Loki. "We're hitting something important, and that's why you're resisting me so much."

"You think she's doing a good job?" Fury asked Natasha, nodding toward the screen. Shannon was standing there, arms crossed, waiting him out. "Transcripts don't look like much."

"The thing about therapy is that it isn't always about what's said."

In Loki's cell, he paced back and forth with jerky steps. He was muttering something about memory, about fractures, about spells that never should have been cast. "What does it matter if everything you remember is a lie?" he finally spat.

"What matters is what you remember," Shannon replied softly, approaching the glass. "That's what you're built from. Memory and experience. That makes who you are."

Loki flinched and turned away from her, arms crossed. "I am a monster."

"Your actions say you are," Shannon agreed.

Fury watched the exchange along with Natasha. "Nervy of her, isn't it?"

"He doesn't respond well to threats. But a subtle manipulation works."

"She has clearance enough to handle Barton now," Fury mused.

"She does," Natasha agreed.

"You're too close to this to be supervisor on that."

"Find her someone accredited to do her state supervision hours with," Natasha reminded him. "I don't count as far as the state is concerned."

"But she's making headway for Loki, isn't she?"

"He trusts her. In spite of himself," Natasha remarked.

"I'll talk to Barton, then," Fury sighed.

"You were thinking of it already."

"But you actually know them both. We need someone that would actually help Barton heal, because it's not happening right now."

Natasha had done her best, but her training was in taking people apart, not putting them back together. At least, not put back together in useful ways, and not for someone she actually cared about. She couldn't trust herself not to do any damage in trying to help Clint.

It was always different when it _mattered._

"She would help him," Natasha told Fury, who nodded.

They both looked at the video feed from Loki's cell. "She needs to," Fury said finally. "I need my agents back in working shape and that sociopath under control."

Easier said than done.

***

Shannon sat amidst her notes and chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought. It would be just as easy to do this at home, but Gina would interrupt her with the analysis results or some kind of spectrograph reading, all proud of herself for her achievements. Shannon felt like she was on to something here, something that could explain the self loathing and the vacillating rage that Loki expressed. She had pieced together a timeline of sorts, but the words _everything you remember is a lie_ resonated with her. The times she talked with Thor had been mostly about Asgardian culture, growing up a prince of the realm, that sort of thing. She didn't know him well enough to push, and she hadn't felt comfortable doing it.

Pulling the office phone closer to her without disturbing her piles of notes, she dialed the number that he had given her in case she had needed to talk again. "Jane's phone!" came a chirpy young woman's voice.

That was a bit of a surprise. "Oh. I was given this number to talk to Thor?"

"Oh, right! He said people might try to call him here. Hang on." The woman pulled away from the phone and yelled "Hey, Thor! Big guy! Call for you!"

It was so odd to hear that and know that Thor had some kind of normal life on Earth even though he was the prince of another realm. It was even odder to go through the small talk that most phone conversations seemed to demand before Shannon could ask what Loki was referring to with his lie comment.

Thor got very silent for a long time. "He's adopted," he said finally.

"Yes, I'm aware. It was written up in his vital stats sheet."

"He didn't know it until very recently." The words were chosen with care, as if Thor didn't know exactly how to phrase it. Didn't they have adoption on Asgard? "And apparently he was born one of the Frost Giants of Jotunheim."

"Wait. Aren't they enemies of Asgard?"

"There was war thousands of years ago." He paused. "I, ah, nearly rekindled that war in my haste and arrogance to prove myself."

"And he tried to kill them all."

"Using the Bifrost, yes."

Shannon rubbed her temple with her free hand. "So he grew up thinking he was Asgardian, hating everything Frost Giant. Then he suddenly found out he's not only adopted, he's an adopted Frost Giant made to look like an Asgardian."

"Yes."

"Oh boy," Shannon murmured. "That's a lot of stuff to unpack there."

"Are you moving?" Thor asked, anxiety evident in his tone.

"No, no, not like that. I mean, emotionally. His entire sense of self went through an entire paradigm shift."

"He thought destroying an entire realm would make him worthy of Father," Thor offered.

"Wait, destroying an entire realm? When was this??"

"Before he showed up at the Battle of New York. At first, we thought he was dead when he had fallen into the Void."

Shannon started scribbling notes to fit it into her timeline of events. "Okay, you're going to have to fill me in on this, because he told me none of this."

Thor breathed a heavy sigh. "It is a sore topic."

"I can't even imagine," Shannon said honestly. "But this is suddenly giving me way more context for what he was talking about today and the past two sessions, and I think I really need to know what went down in Asgard."

"Some of it I only pieced together afterward. I was exiled on Midgard for part of it."

"Any information is good information," Shannon assured him.

As he spoke, voice heavy with regret, Shannon scribbled notes furiously, piecing together the turning point in Loki's perceptions as best as she could.

***

"Are lies of omission worse than outright lies?" Shannon posed in her next session.

Loki eyed her warily; this was a far different opening than her usual. "Why?"

"You're the god of mischief, yes? That's the story I was given, at least." He glowered at her, and she continued with a soft shrug. "Mischief can include lies. Some are flat out untruths, but I suppose there's a lot of misdirection and lies of omission as well."

"I've also been called the Prince of Stories," he muttered.

"A much nicer epithet," she said with a smile. "Same result, isn't it?"

"How so?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Sometimes stories don't have the details right. Or they have the wrong ones and you piece together something that isn't exactly what it was meant to be. Sometimes authors can pull off an unreliable narrator. Sometimes it's just meant to screw with your head."

"You have a point, I assume," Loki said icily. He was so very still, as if waiting for the axe to drop and cleave his head from his shoulders.

Shannon leaned forward on the desk and propped her chin in her right hand, drumming on the desk with her left. "I'm putting together a timeline." A little more drumming. "I'm filling in a lot of the blank spots that you left me."

He remained very silent. She didn't think he was even breathing.

"I think what's _not_ said is just as important as what is said, don't you? Hence my asking about lies of omission. Because not talking about something, not saying it, not telling the truth... That can break hearts just as much as outright lies."

"And what lies did you find?" he asked.

Her expression softened, but it wasn't pity in her gaze at least. "Shall I tell a story? You'll have to tell me if it passes muster." She waited until he nodded, just a fractional tilt of his chin downward. "Every culture has its boogeymen, the demons in the dark meant to frighten children into staying in line. There's always the _other,_ the thing you're not supposed to be like, the thing you're supposed to be afraid of."

"This isn't much of a story," Loki sneered when she stopped.

"It's more of a story if the thing you're supposed to be afraid of is looking back at you in the mirror," Shannon murmured. "If everything you thought you were wasn't true. If you feel like a lie, like you don't belong, like you're hovering between worlds and have to pick one, but you don't know how to do that. Do you pick the culture you grew up in? Do you pick the one you're from? Which one is the real version of you?"

Loki's eyes snapped, but he was silent.

Shannon let her hand fall from her chin and sat up, making sure she maintained eye contact with Loki. "We're all hiding something, aren't we? A self underneath the layers and masks, a version that no one else sees. We're just waiting to find the one we can trust with it, that we can really be who we are with."

"Romantic drivel," he sneered.

"I didn't say romance. It doesn't have to be someone you would date," Shannon replied, leveling just as much scorn in her own tone. "We just want someone to see us as we are. Someone to value us. To deem us worthy."

He was silent again. "I don't like your story," he said finally.

"It's not a happy one. Or a funny one. I don't do funny stories very well, I'm afraid."

"No, you don't."

"Can you tell me a story, then? You're better at them."

His eyes flashed, but he finally seemed to unlock from his frozen position and sat down on the edge of his bed. "There was an infant stolen from his homeland. He was kept as a prize, hidden away and lied to. A relic of a wild, barbarous place. Monsters." Loki's gaze was on hers. "They were always called monsters, those creatures. They didn't deserve life. They didn't deserve the grace of their barren world." His lip curled in derision. "Surely death is better. Surely, in all of their wisdom, the Asgardians knew what to do. It was built on conquest, after all, even if this other realm hadn't finished being conquered."

"The baby," Shannon prompted when he fell silent.

"A monster, of course. Thrown away when not useful anymore. When it couldn't be controlled."

"Could he find a new home?"

Loki's laughter was bitter. "Whatever for? To be the hidden relic in someone else's vault?"

"That's not a home, Loki. That's a prison. A home is a place you belong to."

"Then there is no home and never will be." He grinned at her, an awful stretching of lips to bare his teeth as if he would rip out her throat. "Monsters don't have homes, silly girl. They have lairs, they have caves. They don't belong and never did, no matter how many pretty lies are spread over that fact. No one wants the monster in their midst."

"What if he isn't a monster?"

"Don't be so naïve," Loki sneered. "Of course he is. Just look at all he's done."

"What has he done?"

"I used the Bifrost as a weapon," he snarled. "I was to finish the genocide my father couldn't! I would have finished his work! Then it wouldn't matter what blood I have—"

Clamping his lips shut, Loki got up from the bed and turned his back on her. "You may leave now," he said stiffly.

"What if he isn't a monster?" Shannon asked again, voice gentle. "What if he's just a confused man that made terrible mistakes he has to pay for?"

"You may leave now," he repeated, tone icy.

She gathered up her belongings and stood, chair scraping back from the desk. "Monsters don't know what they're doing. They're just following instincts. Disastrous mistakes can still be atoned for. If you want to."

"Because all the realms are just so forgiving," Loki sneered, his back still to her.

"No, they're not. But you won't find the ones that might be until you try."

He didn't respond to her, and her heels clicked hollowly on the floor as she left.

***

Natasha walked into the observation room at a brisk pace. Loki was seated on his bed, staring at her. He seemed anxious, even though it was clear he was trying to hide it. "Dr. Tran was called away on an emergency. I don't know what kind, but that's why she's not here right now."

"I find it hard to believe that you don't know the particulars."

"I haven't had the chance to look into it yet. She asked me to come here and let you know she couldn't be here."

"You intend to look into it," Loki stated, testing her out.

"If she wants you to know what the emergency is, she'll tell you."

"Let me guess," he began slowly, "this is her doing things the right way."

"That's the thing about those new to the field, any field. They always conform to the rules and haven't yet figured out which ones they can break."

"What rules do you break, Agent Romanoff?" Loki asked, half rising to his feet.

Her smile was thin and mirthless. "All the ones that suit me to."

Loki mirrored her smile. "To rule breaking, then."

"Actually, for your sake, see that you don't," Natasha cautioned. "You haven't even entered probation."

He frowned, the concept of the word clearly unfamiliar to him.

"Following incarceration and time served, often there is probation. It's a period of time to check in with an officer to ensure that rehabilitation actually occurred."

"Another Midgardian oddity."

"One that Asgard should probably learn."

Loki sat back on his bed. "They will refuse such a thing."

"Probably. Their loss."

The silence stretched out uncomfortably. "I hope Dr. Tran is not ill."

"I don't believe so. She'll tell you what she can when she returns."

Natasha felt his eyes bore into her back as she left.

***  
***


	5. Lines Drawn

When Shannon next arrived in the anteroom to Loki's cell, her expression was drawn, her hair was loose and a little wild, and there was no makeup on at all. Her clothing was still professional, but she didn't seem as put together as usual. "I'm sorry I've missed appointments," she said, approaching the glass. "I've been remiss in my duties."

"You're not ill," Loki commented, gaze raking over her. "Not well, but not ill."

"No, I'm not. I will try to get back on schedule as soon as possible."

"But not now."

"There are complications--"

 _"I deserve an explanation!"_ Loki roared, hands curling into fists at his sides.

"You don't get everything you want!" Shannon snarled right back at him, lips pulled back from bared teeth as if she would tear out his throat. Loki actually froze at the sight of her anger; she was always struggling to rein in her emotions and appear calm even when she wasn't, so this departure was unsettling.

"You're stuck on that side of the glass," she spat, advancing toward the glass in question, "and I'm stuck on this side of it. There's shit that has to be done, and _not everything revolves around you!"_

Loki took in the flash of anger in her eyes and then tilted his chin down in a more defensive posture. "I am sorry that I am such a burden to you, then."

To his surprise, she reacted as if struck and whirled away from the glass, taking a few shaky steps before she stopped. He watched her struggle with her breathing, doing those same exercises he had always said were stupid and beneath him to use. True to her predictions, after a few minutes, she was calmer.

Shannon lifted her head and straightened her shoulders before turning to face him. "I'm sorry, Loki," she said in a shaky voice. "That was uncalled for. This isn't your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You're not the one I'm angry with."

He blinked at her, nonplused. She even meant it, wonder of wonders.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Calmly deal with emotions."

Her bark of laughter was tinged with more than a little sarcasm. "That's what I'm trying to teach you, Loki. I thought you've been listening."

He approached the glass and lifted his fingers up to touch it gently. "I have been. I suppose I did not believe you."

Shannon didn't meet his gaze. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

"Because you should never?"

"Because it's not in the context of a session. That would have to be explored, talked through, meaning assessed."

"And this?"

"Had nothing to do with you." She met his eyes then, and he was surprised to see the sincerity there, along with an unvoiced pain that seemed only too familiar from his own expressions in the mirror. "For that, I am sorry. That is a disservice to you."

"There is nothing to forgive," Loki said, meaning it, his hand falling from the glass. "You are under a great deal of strain that I know nothing about." He inclined his head deeply, the kind of gesture that was appropriate to give a visiting dignitary. "Ours has been an entirely professional relationship."

"Exactly." Shannon blew out a slow, frustrated breath. "I don't have a colleague that can continue working with you while I am unavailable. I'm sorry about that. This entire situation was sudden, and I couldn't come up with a work around that would work for you. I know my former supervisor should be able to do the work with you, but that would be unacceptable for you."

Loki blinked. "You consider my preferences in this?"

"Of course." Her voice was brittle, strained, and he wondered about this situation of hers that was pulling at her. She wasn't the one ill, she had admitted that much. It had to be a family member, then. Someone close to her within her family, and she was left to pick up the pieces. Even so, she wasn't letting her professional concerns slide, even if she felt as if she was.

It was humbling, and his gut twisted as if he was ill. He hated the feeling.

"Please, care for yourself and your emergency," Loki murmured. "I will work on the exercises we have done thus far. When you return, we can begin anew."

The slight slump to her shoulders was most likely relief. One less worry on her plate, and Loki felt a warmth lick at the curdling in his gut.

"Okay. Thank you for understanding."

 _I don't,_ he almost said. _Not at all, but I can guess._ That he was probably right didn't make him feel powerful. Shannon was worn out, and he felt oddly responsible for her in that moment. "Take care of yourself, Dr. Tran. I look forward to our work together."

Shannon was able to work up an exhausted smile for him, one he mirrored. "You know, I do, too."

He chose not to examine why the words made him feel lit up from the inside out, even after she left and took her worries with her.

***

Shannon returned two weeks later, dressed in jeans and a loose sweater, hair pulled back into a ponytail. She had eyeliner and lip gloss, but otherwise was unadorned. "Hey," she said, shoving her hands into her pockets. "So. Um... sorry about my temper last time."

Loki eyed her with faint amusement. "You did apologize."

"I'm still on leave. I get twelve weeks unpaid, so I have to come back once leave is up." She sighed and looked tired. "I hope I have something planned by then."

"I assume it's of grave importance."

"My father had a stroke. He's... not paralyzed, exactly. Almost, but I forget the term the doctors used. But he can't do things for himself, and insurance is only paying for one hour of nursing care a day."

That was far more of an explanation than he expected to get, and Loki inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I understand your anger and frustration."

Her bark of laughter was tinged with sarcasm. "You think? And I have to help at home. Mom can't handle it all on her own."

"It's quite admirable. I suppose there's no one else to aid you."

She shook her head. "My brother and sister are too far away."

"You have siblings."

"Yeah. I live the closest."

"Can't they aid your parents?"

Shannon shook her head. "Their jobs..."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Yet you have to put _your_ job on hold."

"I'm the youngest. They have families..."

"And you do not?" he asked sharply.

She shrugged, gaze unwavering. "That's just how it is." Something shifted in her gaze, and she gave him a brittle smile. "I did get a chance to make arrangements for your therapy."

"Not that imbecile I met before you."

A giggle escaped her before she could quell it. "No. He and I aren't exactly on speaking terms. Agent Romanoff will step in while I'm on leave. We'll try to meet to do supervision and discuss things, make sure it's still on track."

Loki froze. "Her."

"We've been discussing things regarding the sessions all along. Bellington wasn't exactly open for a working relationship."

There was joke in there that Loki didn't know, but that hardly mattered. As long as it wasn't that loathsome self-important idiot, he could deal with Romanoff. She had bested him once at his own game, though he had definitely wounded her as well. It would be an interesting sparring match; wounding Shannon would give him no pleasure, as she was so painfully earnest and giving, and actually wanted to aid him. That was something of a novelty these days.

"I wanted to let you know. She'll take over my usual time slot this week, and until I can figure out something for my dad."

"Best of luck to you."

"Thanks," she said, wan smile on her face. "I don't have much time left to figure it out."

"Twelve weeks, you said."

"Yeah, but FMLA is _unpaid._ I still have bills to pay, and I can't stick my roommate with the entire cost of the duplex. So, like I said, I have to figure it all out."

"If I was still a prince..."

Her wan smile didn't change. "Thanks for the thought."

"Petition Thor."

"I'll figure it out."

"The Asgardian treasury can easily pay your debts," he insisted.

"Loki," Shannon said, pulling her hands out of her pockets to hold them up in a halting manner. "It's okay. Really. I can figure it out. It's not the money, exactly, it's the nursing and the round the clock care."

"Ask Thor for assistance—"

"Loki," Shannon repeated. "I'll be okay. Thank you. I do appreciate the thought, but you don't need to worry about me."

His jaw firmed and he fixed her with a piercing gaze. "You must return at the conclusion of your leave. Romanoff won't be the same as you."

"Be nice to her, Loki," Shannon murmured. "She'll do her best."

He couldn't help but sneer. "We shall see."

Shannon sighed, but nodded and left.

For a moment, Loki remained where he stood, but then he sat down on his bed. There were the notes he had of prior sessions, and he had a section in the back of one notebook where he kept notes about Shannon in his particular Asgardian code. Now he added the details he learned about her, and then puttered around the room for a bit, not knowing what else to do. He had been in this damned cell long enough that he felt soft and lazy, though trying to create an exercise routine to keep his skills sharp would likely be seen as threatening.

But Shannon wasn't going to be there, and he could already feel the sense of loss. With nothing much to his name, he had seized upon her as _his._ She would think he was shirking his responsibilities if he didn't exercise his mind as well as his body, right? She didn't want him wasting away into nothing. While his magic was bound, the rest of him was not. His mind had always been his greatest weapon, and Shannon had acknowledged from the first that Loki was dangerous, with or without his magic.

Suppressing his urge to smile for the hidden cameras, Loki began to move.

***

Natasha arrived without papers or a folder the way Shannon would. She pulled the chair away from the desk and primly sat in front of the glass. Loki had his notebook in hand, pen poised above it, lips curling into a half smile. "You are indeed going to play therapist," he said, amused. It didn't seem to reach his eyes, as if he was testing her.

She kept her neutral expression on. "If the occasion calls for it, certainly."

"So what wonderful insights do you think you can bring me to?"

"It's too bad about the change in person you're dealing with," Natasha said instead of answering, her own smile an edged and dangerous thing. Mortal men recoiled in fear at the sight of her smile, but Loki seemed intrigued.

The camera in the anteroom was at her back, and there were no cameras in Loki's cell that could catch sight of it. SHIELD agents wouldn't see the Black Widow's expression, only Loki's reaction to it. Sometimes that was bad enough.

"I was surprised by Dr. Tran," Loki admitted.

"She's gentle with you. Taking her time before digging in."

"Do you sharpen your knives in anticipation?"

Was that boredom or anticipation of his own? It was almost difficult to tell, given how practiced he was in holding himself in check.

"So it's doubly difficult for you, then. On the verge of a breakthrough, and her father is ill."

"Breakthrough," he scoffed.

"Monsters and magic," she purred. "Hardly the usual pastime on Earth, depending on where you're looking. She hit a nerve, though you both used the term monster so _literally._ As if monsters were mindless creatures to be hunted down."

"As they are." Loki's voice was harsh, though his expression remained a mask.

"Monster is a relative term, isn't it?" she asked mildly. Her voice was a caress, a soft purr that had lured in many before a killing blow. "It's what we call the things we don't know, don't understand, don't want to understand. Demonize it. Other it. That makes it so very easy to kill it, if there's no emotional attachment."

Loki's eyes slid away from hers. "Perhaps."

"You're smarter than that. You know how propaganda works. It's present even on Asgard."

His eyes snapped back toward her. "You're a lowly human on a backwater world."

"Even we're liable to get something right now and again."

He narrowed his gaze at her mild tone, and pushed himself up from his lounging position on his bed. "You know nothing of Asgard."

"I know people, how they work." It was all calculated risks, leverage, understanding how the motivation of others led them to action. Even friendships could be calculated. "Asgardians, for all their longevity and talents, are still just people."

Loki twirled the pen between his fingers, a study in artful nonchalance. "And you know them so well," he sneered.

Natasha only lofted an eyebrow at him. "Don't I? There's a give and take, but the outcome is always the same. People are labeled monsters if their motivations aren't understood, if they're not felt to be in keeping with the culture." She leaned forward, elbows perched on her knees. "So if Asgard is the shining pinnacle of light and hope and beauty, everything else is shadow and terrible monstrosity. Isn't that so?"

He eyed her warily now, knowing she was leading to something. Natasha's method was sharper than Shannon's, more likely to draw blood. He was gauging how much he was willing to let her draw from him.

"Maybe it started out of genuine hope and benevolence. Sharing of information and goods and concepts that the other realms may not have known, looking for the betterment of all the nine realms." She shot him a friendly and easy smile, though she knew her eyes snapped a warning. Loki's posture didn't ease up a fraction.

"But I think Asgardians saw themselves as better than other realms. Placed high on the Tree, the greatest army, the best defense, the worthiest and most knowledgeable of scholars. Isn't that true? They were guardians of a sort, right?"

His throat worked, and he was staring at her, waiting for the rest of her statement. It looked like thoughts whirred in his mind, but none were forthcoming yet.

"Maybe it wasn't always conquering through war, though a culture like that certainly had its fair share of wars. Sometimes it's just conquering by ideas. Little by little, assimilating the concepts, letting everyone else believe in a superiority that might not have been there."

"Asgard has shining gold halls," Loki rasped. He seemed to startle himself when he realized that he had spoken at all.

"Where did they get that gold, Loki?" she prodded. "Was it mined on Jotunheim? Is that why the Frost Giants had to die? Did you have to take their treasure?"

"They were monsters!" Loki shouted, jerking forward as if on puppet strings. "They're the creatures of nightmares and cautionary tales! An entire race of monsters, and they should have all been destroyed! Even Thor wanted to do it!"

Natasha remained silent as he shot to his feet, notebook falling from his lap to the floor, pen clutched in a fist. "They wanted to plunge the mortal world into an Ice Age, and they were stopped, driven back, but not exterminated like the vermin they are! I would have done it! I would have succeeded where they all failed!"

"And it would have undone everything you felt?" she asked, voice as quiet and soft as Shannon's could be. "It would have erased that heritage, would have left you with just the Asgardian culture you were raised in. It would have shown everyone where you truly belonged, shown them just who you truly are."

He howled in inarticulate rage, pen breaking in his hand. "You monstrous, foul creature!"

"Yes," she said simply, not even shrugging. "I am."

Loki bared his teeth at her, eyes flashing. "I am better than you will ever be."

"You're longer lived," she corrected in that same mild tone. "But what will you do with that life? What will you do with the skills you've learned, the knowledge you've amassed in that lifetime?"

"I wouldn't waste it on _you."_

She smiled, the Black Widow smile again, and he curled his lips in response. "I'm not the one that you would have to convince, anyway."

"Vague threats again? Yet you would have me believe that Midgard is so enlightened," he sneered at her, dropping the pieces of broken pen and ignoring the ink on his hand.

"This isn't a threat, Loki," she said quietly. "That's how it is."

Snorting, he shook his head. "I know my fate, and I will outlive you in this cell."

"You can change it, you know. On Asgard, your fate would have been to be locked away in a cell and forgotten. How long would you last before the silence was suffocating? Before the isolation wore away at you? How long before everything unravels?"

He curled his lip at her in scorn, but there was a slight tremor in his hand. He'd been in that position before. It was too familiar to him, and perhaps Thor was right in that someone else had been pulling his strings in the Battle.

"How long, Loki?" Natasha pressed, voice as gentle as Shannon's even though she had her Black Widow gaze leveled at him. "How long before it all falls apart?"

"You know nothing of us."

"You're not from Jotunheim, not when you were raised Asgardian. You have Jotunheim physiology even though you look Asgardian—"

"Jotnar," he corrected mulishly.

"You're something in between," Natasha murmured, thinking of what Shannon said about living between cultures. "But you didn't feel that way until recently. You never even guessed at the secret they kept from you. You don't identify as Jotnar, you identify as Asgardian."

"Blood will out," he sneered, but it sounded like he was parroting someone else's words.

"Even in a child?"

"Especially in a child."

Natasha only lofted an eyebrow at him and remained silent. Even without seeing how Shannon employed silence and only a cocked head to indicate interest, she had been using weaponized silence since her own monstrous childhood.

Loki grinned at her, a manic and sickly smile. "Your precious Thor wanted to slay every last Frost Giant when he was but a child. He wanted to instigate war even then, would have gloried in the blood spilled and the lives ended. Against our father's wishes and all of the traditions in place, he insisted in going to Jotunheim to instigate that war before his coronation. It was why he was sent here, you boorish mortal! This was punishment!"

"Because your father learned that all life is valuable," she told him quietly. He took a step back, shaking his head. "All life is worthy. War is not the answer, and death isn't something that we should look for."

"Not my father. None of Odin's blood runs in my veins."

"He's your father in every way that truly counts," Natasha countered.

Still shaking his head, he didn't reply at first. "I was a relic." He turned and then walked up to the glass, knocking on it with his ink stained fingers. "And your own one-eyed leader keeps relics of his own behind glass."

"It's up to you if you remain a relic."

"There are no choices here. There never were."

"You don't believe your own line of bullshit, I know that much." She leaned back and crossed her arms, a smirk playing about her lips. "You can afford to take the long game, we all know that. You can wait us out indefinitely, if the madness doesn't get to you first."

His eyes flashed. "You're no therapist."

"You're just mad that I'm not afraid," she taunted.

"If there was no glass here, you'd be afraid of me."

Natasha stood and came up to the other side of the glass, smirk still on her face. "Do you really think you could handle me, Loki? Could you really be sure I wasn't playing you?" She tilted her head to the side, much in the same way that Shannon usually did when contemplating something that he said. "Could you trust that you wouldn't allow yourself to get played?"

He lifted his chin, but she smiled and knocked on the glass before he could even reply. "You didn't have to be here. There were avenues of escape. You _wanted_ to be here on some level, and you _wanted_ to be kept in check."

"Because of the helicarrier?" he asked, an aloof expression on his face. "Reaching, even for you."

Her smile was as sharp as a knife. "You maneuvered your way to that cell, using what you learned from others' minds." It still hurt to say _from Clint's mind,_ but he didn't have to know that. "You managed to drive apart people that weren't even really a team yet, but in such a way that they would come back together even stronger."

"A mistake, I assure you."

"One you made on purpose," Natasha said, sure of it. "I'll find out why."

While he laughed, there was no joy in it. "Let's see how far you get."

Natasha had always liked a challenge.

***  
***


	6. Trust In Rage

Natasha watched as Loki went through a calisthenics routine in his cell, some of the moves appearing almost like a fighter's kata without the weapon. She knew of similar moves, and found herself mimicking a few of the ones she didn't know. The movements flowed easily for her because of her prior training, and would lead to a lot of strengthening in the muscle. After his routine, he did breathing exercises as a cool down, then showered and dressed in another set of loose, dark clothing. Sometimes he wrote in his notebooks, sometimes not. He was usually very silent throughout the day, jaw sometimes working as some thought flashed across his mind before he could bottle it up.

Deciding on an impromptu visit, she left her office and went down to the anteroom. "Tell me about the monsters in Asgardian children's stories," she said without preamble.

Loki's black hair was damp, and the ends dripped a bit onto his shoulders. He looked almost nonthreatening like that, but she knew better. The surprise in his eyes faded quickly to a more nonchalant expression. "Bored, Agent Romanoff?"

"The monsters," she prompted.

"In need of bedtime stories?"

"If that's how you need to tell it, sure."

He frowned at her, unable to guess what her angle was. "Why?" he asked finally.

"Humor me."

Moving to sit gracelessly on his bed, he spread his arms wide. "Because I have such an adoring audience to listen?"

"This isn't about the audience. It's the story."

Loki made a frustrated noise, then shook his head. "I assume you'll need me to translate."

"Unless a universal translator exists, yes, that would be helpful."

"Translators like that tend to be very illegal," Loki said with a sharp grin.

"Duly noted."

When she didn't say anything else, Loki drummed his fingers on his knee for a moment, unconsciously mimicking the pattern Shannon had used in their last session. "Bor Burison was the King of Asgard, son of Buri, husband of Bestia, father of Odin. He was called the Architect of Asgard, laying the foundations for the realm before the Convergence. That foundation was built from the bones of monsters slain throughout the universe. He was a born warrior, one that all of the Einherjar wished they could be, and led the people of Asgard to prosperity. His control of the elements was unparalleled, and his energy beams could raze entire planets if he chose to do so. In comparison, the magic of Frost Giants is most feeble."

"That's your grandfather."

Loki stared at her, jaws clamped tight. "That is Odin's father. The first ruler of Asgard. He that all revere and proclaim the greatest of all Asgardians."

Natasha took in the stiff posture and sharp syllables. "So as a child, you wanted to be him, too."

"No," he said, staring at her intently. "I never wanted to rule as a child. I was the younger, it would not have been my place."

"Then what did you want?"

"It doesn't matter now."

"But then. It mattered to you then. It was important then."

"It doesn't matter," he insisted. Natasha could almost see his pulse jump in his throat.

"I think it does."

"It didn't happen, it will not happen, it will _never_ happen," Loki said, every syllable precise and sharp. "So _it. Does. Not. Matter."_

"We were telling a story, Loki," she said, voice gentle. "Boys dream of things. Even if it seems impossible, that's the point of dreams."

"Bor Burison is the pinnacle of Asgard. Does that not tell you enough?"

"When did you decide that his path wasn't yours?"

His eyes dropped to his hands, and his fingers twitched almost imperceptibly. "I didn't decide."

"Who did?"

"The paths are closed," he said, voice harsh. "It matters not."

"We're telling stories, aren't we?" She kept that soft, lulling voice in place, and shrugged. "No harm done for telling a story."

Loki looked up, his expression a frozen mask. "There is always harm in stories, Agent Romanoff," he said stiffly. "Of all people, you would know that. Stories can be told with the intent to aid or harm, to reveal or hide. There is _always_ harm done."

"What intention would you have for a story you told me?"

"To silence you. Push you away. Frighten you." His expression didn't change. "You don't belong here. The stories I tell aren't for you."

"They are until Dr. Tran returns. Would it be easier to pretend you were talking to her?"

"You are not her. You will never be her."

"Is that who you need me to be?"

There was a low noise in his throat, not quite a growl, not quite a desperate sound. Natasha thought it meant _yes._

"She's softer. Gentle. Even when catching you in your lies and forcing you to see the truth, she doesn't push hard like I do." She cocked her head to the side, assessing. "Who does she remind you of?" Natasha asked, sure she knew the answer. She and Shannon had talked about transference prior to her father's stroke, and didn't have enough past data to be entirely sure who Shannon was representing. Shannon was sure it had to be Frigga, who had been both mother and teacher for him.

Loki only glared at Natasha.

"Is that why it's easier to talk to her?" Natasha continued. "She reminds you of someone, and now I'm just a reminder of the fact that you don't have either one."

"You want a story?" he sneered after a moment. "Here's a story: A woman took on the task of turning a monster into a man. She said it was because she didn't want him to feel any different. She said it was love. But we both know that it can't be real."

"Love is for children," Natasha murmured, and watched him nod sharply. "It's a debt, then."

"Certainly not to me."

Definitely Frigga, then. _Oh, Loki, you twisted, twisted fuck,_ Natasha wanted to say. He wasn't the only one whose world was turned upside down and inside out, but he had no ability to cope whatsoever.

"Who would it have been a debt to?"

"The Allfather, of course. The better to chain the revenant in plain sight."

"Those cuffs are her design, aren't they?" she asked, pointing to the exposed bit of gold beneath his sleeves. He jerked at the reminder of them, and tugged the sleeves down over them. "So every time you see them, you remember the limitations put on you. You're forced to recall that you're here, you're in a cell, and you can never see her again."

He stared at her and did not speak, but his stillness spoke volumes on its own.

"You can miss your mother, Loki," Natasha said softly, channeling her inner Shannon Tran.

His lip curled in derision. "Monsters don't have mothers, Agent. Haven't you forgotten?"

"Everyone had a mother. What if the monster only became a monster because there were no parents? If that's the thing that made him monstrous? No guidance, no reassurance, no one there to say there was a reason to wake up in the morning?"

Loki's laughter was bitter. "If so, how do you propose to explain me? I had that, Agent Romanoff. I had that guidance. I had that reassurance and purpose. I had _everything,_ yet I'm still the monster they speak of in tales. I'm the thing to frighten children. I'm the thing in the dark, I'm the cautionary tale."

"Because you were born a Frost Giant?" Natasha asked, brows furrowed. "I don't follow."

"And you think yourself intelligent," he snapped, at once scornful and angry. "You think you understand people and their ways, yet you don't understand this simplicity?"

"So explain it to me," she said simply, arms spread wide.

"They're evil!" he snarled, fingers and arms splayed wide as he mirrored her stance. Every visible muscle was taut and corded, as if he would have sprung to attack if he could. "There is nothing redeeming about them! No mercy, no soul, no heart! There is nothing worthy! All they're good for is scrabbling in the ice and dying!"

"Killing them would have meant you weren't one of them," Natasha said softly. "That you were better than them. That you were worthy of the gift your father gave you when he raised you as his own son."

_"He is not my father!"_

"In all the ways that count, he was," she said. "Parents are the ones that raised you, not just the ones that bore you. He was the example you had. He was the one you could look to as a role model, and he was the one you wanted to impress." Natasha leaned forward, expression earnest and intent. "That's why the Frost Giants had to die. That's why you had to finish what he couldn't, what he thought wasn't a worthwhile venture. You had to show him that you're a worthy son, just as good as the one biologically his."

Loki launched himself at the glass, an inarticulate howl of rage torn from his very soul. He banged on it repeatedly, sleeves falling down, exposing the brilliant gold cuffs. As strong as he was, the glass was reinforced with components from Asgard that Thor had brought, and Frigga had guided its construction. Outside of the entire cell was vibranium as well as Asgardian steel and stone. There was no escaping, no breaking the glass. Loki knew it, but hammered away at the glass anyway, screaming. There were no words, only a heartbreaking howl.

It was almost an hour before his rage was spent, and he fell to his knees in front of the glass, head bowed and face covered with his hair. He only looked up when Natasha gracefully sank down to her knees on the other side of the glass.

"We all do things we're not proud of. We're all capable of horrible acts and such breathtaking gestures of humanity."

"I am not human," Loki rasped.

"It might have been better for you if you were."

"Humans are pathetic. Tiny creatures. Short lived."

"So you really see the kind of thing we're made of. There isn't time enough to really hide it for too long. We can't afford to wait."

"I can. I can play the long game if I have to."

"Yes, but do you want to?"

Loki bowed his head and refused to answer, curling his bruised and battered hands in toward his torso. They both knew he would heal from it eventually, and that SHIELD personnel were not allowed to help in any way.

"Think about the story you want to tell," Natasha said, reaching out to touch the glass briefly before rising to her feet. He could have looked up again, but didn't. "Think about the kind of impact you truly want to make. Here, no one decides that but you."

He remained silent as she left the anteroom.

***

Natasha settled beside Clint on the ratty couch he had in his Brooklyn apartment. They each had a bottle of beer, but Clint was picking at the label more than he was actually drinking it. It was hard for him to even maintain eye contact, and he obviously wasn't even watching the B movie that Natasha had brought over to mock. She knew better than to pry just yet, because sometimes he needed to simmer in his thoughts before coming to a roiling boil.

"You're playing therapist now," he said finally, when it was clear Natasha wasn't going to initiate conversation even though she wasn't paying attention to the comic spray of blood from the movie, either.

"It's a temporary thing."

"No, that's gotten you involved for a while. I could tell."

She took a pull from the bottle and watched him carefully. "It bothers you."

"I'd rather put an arrow in his eye socket!" Clint spat, turning to face her, outrage etched in his entire body. "They can't possibly be thinking of bringing the bastard in!"

"You did that with me," she pointed out mildly.

"You are not the same as him!"

"No, I'm not," she agreed in the same tone of voice. "You saw something worth saving when you saw me, Clint." She reached over to put her bottle on the battered coffee table and then settled back on the couch beside him. "No one else was willing to do it at the time."

"Not this again," he growled. "I don't fucking kill kids."

"I know," she said quietly. "But I did. I didn't have any kind of moral compass, not like the ones that other agents do. It doesn't come naturally, some days. So they can ask me to supervise, and they can trust me to pull the trigger if he can't be handled."

Clint's hand shook, and he hastily put down the bottle. "It was different in the Battle. There wasn't time to think."

"But now there is."

"Now there is," he echoed, nodding. "It's different from other missions. I was still myself, then. I didn't doubt if I could even be _me."_

"And you're angry."

"Damn right, I'm angry!" he cried, raking a hand through his hair. "I can't even explain _why,_ even though I know I killed all those people—"

"It wasn't you."

"No, it was me. The bastard gave me an order, and I did it. He never said to kill agents. He never said that I had to hack and slash and butcher my way into places. _I_ did that because it was the most expedient way to get what he wanted. That was never him, that was _me,_ and _I never wanted to know I was capable of that."_

Natasha reached out and pulled his hands into hers. As tempting as it was to apologize or say some kind of platitude to help him feel better, he wouldn't take it well. Their friendship had never been about that anyway. They had always been unflinchingly honest with each other, and it would be a disservice to him to change that now. "And you decided that you weren't going to talk to the therapists."

"They're bullshit artists anyway," Clint growled.

"Not all of them."

"Bellington is."

Natasha snorted. "He's an ass, but a nationally recognized ass."

"Deserved getting decked," he told her mulishly.

"Not gonna disagree with you," she replied, squeezing his hands. "You know Fury will mention O'Hanlon and Vallejo next."

He pulled a face. "Fuck no."

"There's no one else with high enough clearance level." She paused significantly. "Unless you want the newbie."

"She's working with Loki, you said."

"Yeah. So at least she has context for what you're dealing with. But that's up to you."

"I'd rather just skip this part."

"Being off base doesn't mean you're combat ready for missions," she reminded him. "I'm sure you're only here because Fury kicked you out."

His silence was answer enough.

"Clint. It's just therapy. You've faced worse and lived. You managed to convince _me_ that life is worth something, that there can be a balance. That compromise isn't failure. Just think about it, okay? You can do better than sitting in this shithole feeling miserable."

"I don't feel like it's better."

"It won't in the beginning. We all know that."

"Do we really? Because there's always more shit to add to the pile..."

"But it gets better."

"I don't remember everything that I've done—"

_"Good."_

"But I remember enough of it. In a hazy kind of way. Like I was drunk or high the entire time. I didn't think, Nat. There was no thinking at all, just following directions, the most expedient route, even if it was the bloodiest..."

"That's not you," she insisted.

"But what if it _is?_ What if you strip away everything and that's all I am inside? That I'm everything my dumbass old man said I was?"

"No. I refuse to believe that. It is _not_ true, Clint. You're better than that. It might be what your father thought of you, but _you_ made yourself better. _You_ broke what he made of you. It took a magical mind wipe to get you to do those things, _it wasn't you._ So I know you can turn this around. _It will get better._ Day by day, moment by moment, if it has to be that way. Every drop of black to balance out the red, every moment you give Loki the finger and don't let it consume you."

"The best revenge is living well," he said hollowly, echoing what he had told her years ago on a windy rooftop in Europe.

"You can do it." She pulled him into a tight hug. "Use the anger to do something different. Be someone better."

Clint buried his face in the crook of her neck and held on tightly. He didn't sob, but his entire body shook with emotion. So similar, yet so different from Loki's breakdown earlier that day. He cared about his own identity and place because he felt so small and inadequate. Clint worried about all the harm he was capable of doing and didn't want to do it.

Loki's words from the helicarrier came back to her. _You think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything?_

Yes, she did.

***  
***


	7. Twisted Ugly Things

_"Em bé,"_ Tuyet Tuy murmured, finding Shannon asleep at the kitchen table. She shook her shoulder gently, waking her, and watched sadly as Shannon wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and rubbed at her eyes blearily. "If you can't help, you can't help."

"I can help," Shannon insisted. There were stacks of bills around her, and she swallowed nervously as she took it all in. "Just juggling hours and the timing of the bills, and we can get more nursing hours for _Ba,_ and maybe the physical therapy, even if the insurance won't cover it. It might have to be once a week instead of twice—"

"Shannon..."

"It's going to be a struggle. I think we can make it work, at least."

Tuyet pulled out a chair and sat next to her daughter. "I was talking with David."

"Is he coming to help?" Shannon asked, unable to hide the hope in her voice.

"There's space in his house."

The breath left her in a rush. "Oh."

"Then instead of mortgage payments, if we sell the house, we can hire the nurses and therapists that _Ba_ needs."

She pressed her lips together and nodded at her mother. "Of course. Of course, that's the best thing to do. He needs the help."

Tuyet reached out and touched Shannon's arm. "Your job is here, _em bé,_ and as much as you have done so far, you have to go back to it. If only to pay for your student loans."

Shannon's laughter was an almost bitter bark, and she couldn't help but think of the offer Loki had made to tap Asgardian funds. Not that she could, it wasn't ethical, but it was so tempting to think of what it might be like if she didn't have to worry about loans or bills.

"It's warmer in Georgia," she said, giving her mother a watery smile. "You don't have to complain about winter anymore."

Pulling Shannon into a tight hug, Tuyet kissed the top of her head. "You struggle so much, _em bé,_ but Valerie and David have to do their part, too."

"Valerie's house is too small?" she asked, a thread of bitterness in her voice.

"Tcha, don't be harsh," Tuyet admonished, pulling back and then standing up. "She works too many hours at the clinic."

"So do I, and I'm still here."

Tuyet compressed her lips in that unhappy way she had, and gave Shannon a sharp look that made her want to squirm in her seat as if she was a child. "We all do our part," Tuyet reminded her. "And now it's David's turn to help _Ba._ Soon enough, Valerie will help."

Valerie was the golden child, the medical doctor, the one that had done everything expected of her and then some, the one that gave Tuyet the most bragging rights. Not that David or Shannon were slouches either, but they weren't _medical doctors._ The prestige alone let Tuyet coast on those stories in the community for quite a while.

It would be a haze of packing up things, sorting through them, picking out what she wanted to keep from her childhood home. Shannon didn't know what to feel about that; she had grown up in that house, and had expected her parents to live there forever. That was illogical, of course, but her parents had become homebodies of a sort. All the traveling had been done before Valerie was born, and all they had said they wanted was a stable and quiet life. They had made so many efforts to Americanize when they came to the United States, trying so hard to fit in as best as they could while keeping most of their own culture. The kids' first names were "American," their middle and last names were Vietnamese.

There was always the unfunny joke of the person becoming a therapist because they had their own issues to work through. But Shannon had always felt fairly normal. She didn't feel overly ostracized as a child, had never been abused or traumatized. It was a fascinating topic for her, the puzzle she could take apart and put back together a dozen different ways. Valerie had medicine, David had computers, she had therapy.

So why did it suddenly feel as if she was losing everything despite all of her efforts?

Later, back at the duplex with Gina, she cried and felt lost and stupid and little, just like her family nickname. Gina sat with her, an arm around her shoulders, and listened quietly. "It's that they're moving so far away and didn't even ask you until the decision was done," she said. "You weren't included. Like they're leaving you."

"Which is stupid, 'cause they're not, but..."

"But feelings are stupid."

"Yeah. Stupid, icky, awful things." Shannon sniffled. "So I go back to doing what I do best, I guess," she said, voice bitter.

"What's that?" Gina asked, frowning.

"Burying myself in work and studying and pretending everything's okay."

"Oh, honey. If you need to take a day, you can take it. You're still on leave."

"The rent—"

"No, seriously, don't worry about that. We're not short that bad in the account, it's okay. It's why we planned a buffer, okay? If you need a day to veg and do absolutely nothing but sit in your pajamas and eat ice cream all day, you do that. If you want to get out of the house, you could always come with me and sit in the lab. Not that you can do much with the mass spectrometer, but you can hold my notebook or something." Gina gave her a tight hug and rocked her a little when Shannon hugged her back. "You're allowed to be selfish, Shannon. Just this once, do something _you_ want to do to take care of yourself. You can't take care of the entire world if you're so burned out you can't see straight."

"It's stupid, isn't it? To feel like I failed and I'm a bad daughter? That I completely suck because I couldn't make it work?"

"Hell yes, it's stupid!" Gina cried, pushing Shannon back so she could look her in the eye. "You are not a miracle worker. You're a therapist. An awesome therapist, but a therapist. Not a neurologist, not a magician, not whatever else is out there that reverse stroke damage or whatever. No one could do more than you've been doing, nobody. And anybody that says anything different can fight me."

Shannon laughed at the incongruous picture of Gina in boxing gear, and wiped at her eyes. "I am a mess, _ôi mẹ ơi."_

"And you are entitled to be. Seriously, Shannon, you're an awesome woman. Don't cut yourself down because you couldn't do the impossible."

"How'd you get to be so smart?" Shannon asked with a watery smile, still wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.

"Grad school fucks with you _hard,"_ Gina declared. "You have to grow the hell up and put your big girl pants on to deal with the old boys club."

Shannon sniffled. "Supervision, too."

"Yeah. So you're allowed to be upset. Then you get tougher to kick the world's ass."

Nodding, she let Gina pull her into another hug. "We'll be okay. I think," she sniffed.

"No, I _know._ You've got me, you've got my science buds, you've got your college friends you can tell this stuff to, hell, you've got the Black Widow on your side. You've got a hell of a team if I do say so myself."

"Which you do."

"Of course I do, because I'm brilliant," she said with a grin. "Feel better?"

Shannon nodded and stayed close to Gina. "Yeah. Thanks for listening."

"Anytime," Gina said, meaning it.

***

Loki stared at Shannon intently when she returned as if it was an ordinary session, portfolio in hand. She sat down primly in the chair at the desk, unzipped the portfolio and laid out the pad and pens, even though she sat back and didn't touch them. Usually, she had one in hand, poised and ready to take notes if she needed to.

"No notes today," he commented.

She smiled at him them, and seemed tired. "I've been gone a few weeks—"

"You had other obligations," he cut in smoothly.

"—and you have done a lot of work with Agent Romanoff in that time."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"I'm glad that you were able to continue," Shannon said sincerely. "And I'm glad you didn't give her that much of a hard time."

"I was hardly kind to her."

Her tired smile was more amused now. "No, but it could have been so much worse, and I think we both know that."

Loki crossed his arms and gave her a mulish expression. "So you discussed things, then."

"Of course we did. You had your homework, I had mine."

His eyes sharpened. "Is your father still ill?"

"Yes, he is," she murmured, expression tinged with sadness. Loki wanted to kick himself for causing that kind of expression. "But there are arrangements in place, so he'll be taken care of. I don't have to worry quite so much."

"Your siblings have come to the rescue," Loki guessed.

"You paid attention," Shannon murmured.

"Of course I did," he responded, insulted by the insinuation that he couldn't pay attention properly. "All I have is time."

Shannon shook her head, a rueful expression on her face now. "This is something that matters to you now," she commented.

"Yes," Loki said, staring at her. "Should it not?"

 _"Why_ does it matter, Loki?" she asked, voice quiet.

"I could just say that you ease the boredom," he replied in a flippant tone, surprised that she would push like this _now._ She was his, surely she had to know that, but she'd never actually questioned it before. It had never been something important to announce.

"That might be part of it," she allowed, "but it's not the complete truth."

He snorted and leaned back on his bed, arms still crossed. "Complete truth," he scoffed. Still, he could feel his pulse race, could feel his gut twist unpleasantly. Was she unhappy with him? Did she want to leave him, too?

"Yes. I'd like to think we're honest here. Aren't we, Loki?" she asked, voice soft.

Norns, was she disappointed in him, too?

"You've come a long way," Shannon continued. "And there have been a lot of uncomfortable things that you've realized. It's not easy to have to process, and I wasn't here for some of that."

"Do you have to be?" he asked, flippant despite his throat closing tightly. "Isn't that the point of someone covering for you while you're away?"

"Do you think I don't approve of you?" Shannon asked. "That I wasn't here when you needed me to be because I didn't want to be here?"

She was pushing and pushing and that knot in his gut was threatening to break open. "You have a life," he snapped. "You made that abundantly clear. I don't have a place in it."

"Is it important to you that there is?"

Loki uncrossed his arms and gripped the edge of the bed's platform. "You're here for _me,_ are you not?"

"Do you need an answer for that?"

_"Stop asking me questions!"_

"Are you mad at me for leaving? For not being here? That I wasn't the one that heard your stories? You never told me about Bor."

"You weren't here for that! You were off with _your_ father and _your_ family, and I clearly have none!"

"None that you accept," she challenged.

Oh, how that _burned._ "They are not my family," he snarled. The bed didn't buckle in his grip, and he didn't know if it would have been satisfying if it did.

"Family is more than just blood," she said quietly. "They're whoever is there for you. The ones that help pick up the pieces. The ones that take pride in your accomplishments, the ones that care about you no matter what happens."

"And we see what _family_ does, do we not?"

"Is that why it hurt so much when I had to leave?" Shannon asked, hands folded on the desk and an almost hurt expression on her face. "Have I become family for you?"

Loki glared at her, lips drawn back and teeth exposed. "Damn you."

"Have I replaced the family you thought you lost?"

He shouted something in Asgardian at her, and she had no change in expression. Even when he repeated it, she didn't move or change. She blinked, she didn't understand him and clearly wasn't stupid enough to think it was an endearment, but she didn't otherwise move.

"I'm still here," she said, that same quiet tone and sad expression on her face. "We need to talk about this, Loki. There needs to be therapeutic healing."

"Healing," he scoffed. "You're not a healer."

"We've had a rupture, you and I. Not planned, not intentional, but it happened just the same. It has to be discussed. We have to heal from this."

_"We."_

"Yes, _we._ I'm not in therapy by myself here," Shannon told him, the corner of her mouth quirking a bit. "It would be very lonely otherwise."

"You're not lonely," he threw back at her mulishly.

"You can be lonely even if you're surrounded by other people, Loki," she chided gently. "We're working together, you and I. At least, I thought we were."

All this repetition of _you and I_ and _we._ He wasn't stupid, he knew what she was doing with that. But at the same time, the tension in his chest loosened. She wasn't leaving him, then. She wouldn't stress this so much if she was leaving for good.

"It shouldn't matter."

"Because I'm human? Mortal? Don't understand magic or Asgard or any of what you've experienced?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, but there was a curious blankness on her face now that Loki didn't like seeing. He saw it often enough in the mirror, and he didn't like seeing it where it didn't belong.

"You can say you're disappointed in me," Shannon continued. "Or angry, or upset, or whatever it is. If I haven't lived up to your expectations—"

"You've exceeded them," he said, hands tightening further on his bed frame. "Oh, I had none for you at first, especially given your esteemed colleague's utter failure upon our first meeting. I thought you would be nothing. That this would be a waste of time."

"Is that why this shouldn't matter?"

 _"Stop asking questions!"_ he spat.

"Why?"

He glared at her, but the mask slipped and a bit of a smile showed in her lips.

"You're playing a game you can't win. You can't best me," he said, his voice a low, seething mess of pain. "You will lose, and you will hurt, and in the end, it won't matter because you're mortal, and your entire lifespan is the blink of an eye in the face of eternity."

That hint of a smile twisted into something sad, and her eyes seemed to dim a bit. The odd pain in his chest and gut was back, and he thought his throat would close, cutting off his air.

"This isn't a game, Loki. At least, not where there are winners or losers. This is trying to understand why things happen. Trying to teach you to cope with shit when it happens." Shannon chuckled when he blinked at her in surprise. "I know, I know, not exactly the most professional of statements, but that doesn't make it any less true."

"This—"

"You can be mad at me for leaving," she interrupted, that same sad and twisted smile on her face. It hurt him to see it, but he couldn't explain why. "You can miss me when I'm gone. You can be upset with me for not understanding things that are so simple to you."

"Of course I can," he replied, not quite able to snarl at her. "They're my feelings. You can't stop me from feeling them."

"And whatever they are, however painful they are, they're still valid. It's okay to feel them. It's okay to be disappointed and angry and upset and worried about the future. It's okay to feel like a mess." There was a suspicious shine to her eyes. "It's okay to feel like a failure, even if you did everything right, even if you did your best. Sometimes life just sucks. Sometimes it doesn't work, and it's not anyone's fault."

"Is that how you feel right now?" Loki whispered.

"It's how everyone feels at some point," she said. "Even if it doesn't make any sense."

Silence stretched out between them, long but not quite uncomfortable.

"I wasn't sure you were going to come back."

Her sad smile was back, but her eyes seemed brighter. "Where else am I going to be, Loki? I need to be here with you. We have a lot of work to do, you know. Agent Romanoff did her best to keep things going for you, but it's still you and me that have to do the heavy lifting."

"Why don't you think I'm a monster?"

Loki was startled, he hadn't meant to ask that aloud. His chest felt ripped open and exposed, as if he was the tiny shriveled thing that Odin once brought back to Asgard.

"We're all capable of monstrous things," she replied softly.

"I don't believe it of you."

"You never know how far someone will be pushed, where their limits are. But even then, calling yourself a monster is the easy way out, isn't it? Then you're not to blame for the choices you made. It's not your fault something terrible happened. But it _was_ your fault. Whatever happened in the past, you're the one that brought the Chitauri to New York City. You're the one that caused the deaths and destruction, and all of the fallout that's still happening." Shannon, hands still folded primly in front of her on the desk, leaned forward. "So you have to decide what you're going to do. You have to decide what the next step will be. I will be here with you, but it's your decision to make."

He forced himself to let go of the bed frame as he stared at her. "That hurt."

"That was honest."

"As you see it."

Shannon looked at him steadily, not moving. Loki didn't know if she was weighing her words, carefully figuring out what she should say or how he would respond to it.

"Dr. Tran?" he asked, not comfortable with the silence anymore.

"Feelings are awful, ugly, twisted things, aren't they?" she asked. There was something in her voice that he couldn't recognize, maybe her own feelings with her own family situation. Her father having a stroke and being weak and powerless, her siblings far away only now stepping up to help her with his care, her own duties being so difficult for her to complete...

"I suppose," Loki allowed.

"It's easier not to feel them. It's easier to think they don't exist. Or belong to other people. It would be so much easier if we didn't have feelings. If they didn't matter."

"But they do," he said into her silence.

She nodded. "They do. So you can't deny yours, Loki. No matter how ugly or twisted or horrible you feel, we need to talk about it. It's safe here."

"When they're too much for you..."

Shannon shot him a wry smile. "We'll figure it out together, Loki. I'm not going anywhere and we both know you aren't, either."

"No, I am not."

"And instead of thinking of yourself as a monster from fairy tales, think of the choices you made that got you to this point. Think about who you wanted to be. Is this it?"

"Like Agent Romanoff and her talk of stories."

Shannon gave him a wan smile. "We all have stories, Loki. Which ones are the real ones?"

Loki heaved a sigh. "That is a most difficult question to answer."

"I know. But a worthwhile question, just the same."

He nodded and watched as she gathered up her belongings. "I'll miss you when you're gone," he admitted, voice barely audible.

"I'll miss you, too."

Glory of glories, he didn't think she was lying. And neither was he.

***  
***


	8. Things I Can't Say Out Loud

"That was a draining session," Natasha commented, entering Shannon's office. The therapist was slouched in her seat, the empty notepad in front of her. 

Shannon turned toward Natasha and merely sighed. "Yeah. Some days are harder than others. I'm wrung out to start with, and that was just..." She lifted her arms in a half shrug, then dropped them, still slouched. "I can't even make the words go to put a note together."

"Would it be that difficult?"

"I don't have the brain power for this right now."

Natasha watched her slump a little more, close to putting her head on the desk. She almost felt sorry for the therapist, so far out of her league yet struggling so hard to be effective. "There's more," she said quietly.

"Of course there is." Shannon sounded resigned. "There always is."

"Nothing from the World Security Council yet, at least. Things have been quiet on that front," Natasha assured her. "So you don't have to step up the timetable with Loki.'

Her bark of laughter carried more hopelessness than anything else in it. "There is no stepping it up. Not if we don't want to break him."

"I don't think they care," Natasha admitted. "But I wanted to warn you, Director Fury is going to be giving you another complicated case to add to your workload."

Now Shannon really did put her forehead down on the desk. "Who?"

"Clint Barton."

She jerked her head up in surprise. "But... How would that even work?"

"You have the appropriate clearance."

Shannon only groaned. "Riker's Island _would_ have been less stressful."

"Less interesting, maybe," Natasha added, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms loosely. "I don't think it would satisfy you for long."

"Because I'm an idiot and a glutton for punishment and I don't know when to quit," she muttered, putting her forehead back on the desk.

"Need to wallow in self pity for a bit?" Natasha asked, pushing off of her elbow to step a little closer to Shannon.

"Yes, please," she murmured, not looking up. "My head hurts, I just need a little quiet and then maybe my brain will go."

"Try some tea," Natasha suggested.

"I have green, jasmine and oolong," Shannon admitted without moving. "Hasn't helped yet."

Natasha resisted the urge to pat her shoulder like a child or give her any false words of encouragement, even if she probably wanted to hear them. "Give it time. You're probably the best bet that either of them have right now."

"Because I'm _so_ experienced," Shannon said sarcastically.

"Because you actually care and want to help," Natasha told her honestly. "You're not in it for glory or publications. You're in it for the right reasons, and that makes all the difference." She left without looking back, knowing that Shannon would likely be gaping at her in surprise.

Not one word of that was a lie.

***

Shannon sat across the table from Clint, who scowled and slouched and clearly wanted nothing to do with the entire process. She had a thick stack of documents next to her ubiquitous notepad and portfolio with pens, and opened the session by tapping on it. "I've read through the progress notes and transcripts of past sessions and whatever reports I have clearance for."

"Good for you."

She didn't even blink. "How much of what you told them was bullshit?"

Clint looked up at her, mouth slack. "Did you just use profanity?"

"Got your attention, didn't it?" Shannon said with a smile.

"I guess," he allowed.

"This is mandatory, and I get it, you don't want to be here. You'd rather try to forget everything and pretend that it's all okay. Bury yourself in your work, don't think of anything but the job in front of you, complete the mission, work on autopilot if you have to." She tapped the pile of documents she had gone through. "But it comes out. Sooner or later, your reserves are gone, and then you're running on empty. Then the nightmares come out. Memories blur through into the present day. Shit happens."

He looked at her with hollow eyes. "Don't even pretend that you know what it feels like."

"The particulars? No, I don't. And I won't insult your intelligence by saying that I do. I'm here to try to understand it, to help you process what happened."

Clint's bark of laughter was bitter and tinged with the edge of madness. "What happened? That madman they have you working with took over my mind and had me kill people. He took control, warped everything I was, and made me do his dirty work."

"How is it different from what you do for SHIELD?"

Visibly recoiling, Clint leaned back as far as he could in his chair. "Lady, you—"

"From a civilian's perspective, you're given orders that you have to carry out in any way possible, and sometimes it involves a lot of damage and pain," Shannon interrupted. "Sometimes you can save lives by taking a few select ones. Sometimes you can't." She tapped the pile of documents again. "You've worked for SHIELD for years. I'm sure there's lots more that I don't have access to, and these are the barest of outlines for documentation's sake." She watched as he swallowed uncomfortably, and then finally looked away.

"How much of what happened under Loki's control resembled orders you had to carry out for SHIELD?" Shannon asked, voice softer. "How many memories of those times have come back in the middle of the night? How many of those faces bleed through during the day?"

"No one ever asks about that," Clint muttered, dodging the questions.

"Well, we both know what you thought of them," Shannon said, lips twisting into a wry smile. "So I think it's safe to assume that nothing actually got done with them, just the barest minimum to appease your superiors so you could get back to work."

"Pretty much," he admitted.

"I propose that we start at the beginning. Not even New York, though it's still an open wound for you. But all the other missions that went south, the other agents lost, the innocents that couldn't be saved. Then when you're ready, we'll touch on what Loki did to you."

"You're working with him," Clint said, eyes sliding past hers to rest on the wall behind her.

"So I know his perspective, but not yours. And what he thinks doesn't matter in this room. It's you and me, and what you want to discuss."

"You can't ignore what he did."

"And neither can you."

He fell silent for a time. "Nat likes you," Clint said finally. "Says you actually care about doing the right thing, that it matters to you if we get better."

"Yes, it matters."

"It's a job, but not just a job. You're not just going through the motions."

"No," Shannon agreed, voice as soft as his. "Because you matter. Your mind and soul, the will to go on and keep doing the job that the rest of us can't... If I can help even a little bit, then I want to do that."

Clint bit his lip, still looking at a spot behind her head. "She says I can trust you. That she trusts you, because you actually care."

"And what do you think?"

"You talk a good talk," he said after a moment. "It sounds good. But they all start out with good intentions in the beginning. They all say they have your best interest at heart. They'll take care of you, they'll do the right thing. But then it's all about convenience, whatever's expedient, whatever will get the job done so they can move on to the next horrible thing."

"We're not just talking about SHIELD, are we?" Shannon guessed.

His gaze snapped to hers. "Maybe not."

"If it's easier, we can dance around the particulars. I'm not here to stress you out and make things worse. If you need to be vague, by all means, start there."

"Everyone else wanted details right away."

"It would help me out, yes. It would make things so much easier. But it would also make you upset, and then you won't come back. I have time, and so do you."

"But I don't," he snapped, frustrated. "If you don't clear me, I'm not back on active duty."

"We have time to establish trust," she corrected. "I have to earn it."

Clint drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, eyes fixed to that point behind her head. "You really think you can?"

"I can try. You're the only one that can determine if I earn it or not."

He pressed his lips together, then stood up abruptly. The chair behind him tottered and nearly fell over, but he caught the back of it in a white knuckled grip. His nails dug into the wood deeply, leaving a scratch behind. "Maybe. But not today. I can't do this today."

"I'm here when you're ready."

Shannon said nothing as he bolted from the room.

***

"I can see why you said I'd like her," Clint groused when Natasha showed up at his grungy apartment in Brooklyn that evening.

"Do you?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Why not? She actually gives a shit, which is more than Bellington or Vallejo would be like."

"I can't—" He cut himself off sharply and hunched further into his ratty couch. "I can't."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"She'll want details eventually."

_"Eventually."_

"And I never want to discuss any of it. I don't want to think about it. This is why I fucking hate therapy. Not a fan," he growled.

"But if she wants them _eventually,_ it means she isn't asking now." Natasha sat down next to him and took one of his calloused hands in hers. She rubbed at them lightly, feeling the texture; they were getting softer, but not by much. Clint wasn't allowed on the range until he was cleared for active duty, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have a practice bow around to dry fire or a hidden pistol to pretend to shoot. Neither item would fly under New York City law, but as a SHIELD agent he would know how to hide the evidence.

It would be easy to show Shannon's style and comfort Clint by showing him the video footage, but it was a breach of security clearance and all of Shannon's ethics. Natasha wouldn't discuss the particulars with Clint, and they've known each other long enough that he would ask for them even if he wanted to know.

"I'm not dragging out the old shit for someone's amusement."

"She wouldn't be amused," Natasha pointed out.

Clint pulled his hand away and shot her a mulish expression. "You know what I mean."

"I also know that we all have to work our way through the SHIELD authorized therapists."

"You, too?"

"I get to report to Fury and Hill," Natasha replied without rancor.

That still made him wince. "Damn. Sorry."

She gave him a magnanimous smile. "I think you'll like her. She won't pressure you for details right away. You'll wind up giving them to her at your own pace. She's pretty soft about that."

He sighed. "I don't have to like it."

"No one said you did."

"This sucks."

"Yes, it does."

"And I would _love_ to let a couple explosive arrows loose on Loki. The expression on his face when it goes off? Priceless."

Natasha chuckled along with him, even if she didn't have the same belief anymore. God help her, she was starting to more fully understand how the bastard thought.

***

Natasha fell into step with Shannon as she was entering the facility. "This isn't your usual day to be here," she commented.

"I was visiting Gina," she replied with a shrug. She was dressed in her usual business casual attire, so it was an easy mistake to make. "You can come with me, if you want. It's just the science division."

"Your roommate," Natasha said. She bit back a smile at Shannon's nod. "The one that wanted to know if I ever dated women."

"You remember that?" Shannon sputtered, coming to a stop.

She couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not every day someone asks you something like that."

"And totally not my business," Shannon said quickly.

"It would make her day to have me visit with you."

"Oh, that's just _mean,"_ Shannon said with delight at Natasha's blatantly false innocent tone. "I love it. She'll be talking about it for weeks, I'm sure."

"When we're done, I have some things to go over with you."

"Gotcha," she sighed. "Butter me up with the social niceties, then zoom in for the kill."

"I _am_ the Black Widow. It won't do to have you thinking I'm soft or fluffy."

Shannon snorted, shaking her head. "When I'm sure you could kill me with a ballpoint pen? Nah, not soft or fluffy unless you really wanted to be."

"I like that assessment," Natasha said cheerfully.

"Thought you might."

The visit to the science lab was relatively brief, as it was during Gina's lunch hour, but the woman very obviously lit up with excitement when she saw Natasha come in. The spy was gracious and very nice to her before bowing out after a few minutes to let the two friends talk for a while on their own.

Taking a guess, Shannon headed to her office afterward. Sure enough, Natasha was sitting at her desk, perusing her process notes and the meticulous timeline she had put together. "So what things do we need to go over?" She didn't sit across from her desk but remained standing. "Is it the World Security Council?"

"I'm not sure if this is worse or not, but no. It's Asgard."

Natasha watched Shannon purse her lips, thinking. "Something happened there, then. Maybe they need his expertise."

"Is he ready to speak with any Asgardian?"

She was taken aback that this was going to be her decision, even though Natasha had brought up that fact at the beginning. Natasha didn't think that Shannon had consciously forgotten about it, but it simply hadn't been necessary to contemplate before.

"Is it Frigga?"

At Natasha's nod, Shannon let out a slow breath. "He'll be obnoxious and say awful things, but he'll at least talk to her." She shook her head. "Anyone else, I don't think he could tolerate it."

"I think you should be in the room with us when the meeting takes place." At Shannon's start of surprise, Natasha smiled thinly at her. "Who do you think will have to pick up the pieces when it all inevitably goes wrong?"

***

The Queen of Asgard stood tall and regal, wearing gold and teal fabric for her gown. All of her jewelry was similarly colored, and her hair was pinned in place in an elaborate coiffure that made Shannon think of Regency era historical movies. She felt positively dowdy in black dress pants, royal blue shirt and black cardigan. She had thought her boots were at least cute, but now she felt like slinking into the back of the room. The last time she had felt this way was during one of the Tet celebrations that she had underdressed for. All the other girls had been wearing elaborate _ao dai_ or _suong sam_ , and she had arrived in jeans and a sweater straight from Columbia's library. Oops didn't even begin to cover it.

Loki had frozen in place at the sight of her. "Another illusion?" he asked, tone haughty. She could almost hear the difference now, could almost see the stiff way he held himself. How did he ever think he was good at hiding his feelings?

Shannon and Natasha remained in the room off to the side, the desk Shannon usually used pushed against the wall. It made Shannon feel like she was in a lecture hall, with the somewhat dimmer light in her room. Loki, on the other hand, was bathed in bright white lights as if he was a butterfly pinned on display. It was the way Asgard kept their prison cells, she had been told, and seeing it made Shannon feel unsettled in a way she couldn't name. Natasha looked unaffected by it, but she was watching everything in a way that Shannon could only say was _sharp._ She wasn't on edge, exactly, but seemed poised to spring should anything happen.

"I'm here, Loki," Frigga said, voice gentle. She came right up to the reinforced glass and put her hand to it, pressing hard enough for Loki to see that she had truly arrived.

"Come to see your good work for yourself, then?" he asked, voice light as he lifted his arms enough so that his sleeves fell away from the golden cuffs. Shannon didn't miss the way both hands were curled into loose fists, the tilt of his jaw as he looked up from his seat on the bed. He hadn't risen when Frigga entered the room. Was that meant to be an insult of some kind?

"Did you really think there would be no weregild to pay?" Frigga asked.

Loki flinched at the thread of steel in her voice, at the way she hadn't moved or softened her stance at all. She was a Queen, after all, even though she was also his mother.

"You were meant to be better," Frigga said in that same even tone of voice. "The voice of reason, the temperate choice. One who would rule in wisdom, keep our realm safe and at peace."

He snorted. "Wisdom. From a creature such as I? Foolish prattle."

"It takes wisdom to learn magic, wisdom to know when to use it. I know you advised Thor against that disastrous visit to Jotunheim."

"So where was your wisdom in hiding the truth of what I was?" he threw at her, eyes flashing in anger. "Why hide a monster in your midst, a stolen relic to use as you see fit?"

"I see my son," Frigga said, hand falling from the glass to rest at her side. "He languishes in self pity and self loathing, when all we ever wanted was his care and wellbeing. I told you, Loki. We never told you because we didn't want you to feel different. You are our son, and you always were, and always will be."

"Yet you could not abide a blue boy in your midst, could you?" He lifted his cuffed hands, a bitter sneer on his lips. "Odin could never make me look this way. So it had to be you, twisting my _spá_ so I wouldn't appear monstrous."

"Odin has some of the gift himself."

Loki made a derisive noise, lips twisting in frustration as he looked away. "Not like that."

"Your father—"

"He is _not_ my father!" Loki snarled, lips pulled back to bare his teeth at her. For a moment he looked more like a wild animal than a man.

"Am I not your mother?" Frigga asked, her soft voice not masking her hurt.

Though he paused and his lips softened slightly, Loki didn't let up. "No, you are not."

Frigga's chin lifted a fraction, and her lips pulled back in a sardonic smile. "So you'd like to believe, then."

"Is there a point?" he asked, teeth grit and lips pulled back. "You're here after months for a _reason,_ and it's not this misbegotten attempt to claim me as son."

"You're angry—"

 _"You lied to me my whole life!"_ Loki roared, shooting to his feet. Spittle was flying from his lips, and his fists were raised. The gold cuffs were clearly evident to all in the room. "You lied when it was convenient for you, you lied when you could have told the truth, you did nothing but lie and lie and _lie._ The All Mother, lying even as she was extolled for virtue and honesty and held up to be the paragon all on Asgard should look up to!"

Her sharp intake of breath was hard to hear, and Shannon closed her eyes. She could almost see Frigga's horrified reflection in the glass, and having it superimposed over Loki's livid expression was more than she could bear. Hearing about confrontations like this after the fact was one thing, but having to see it for herself?

"The _honesty_ of the work, that the _seiðr_ shouldn't be used for unclean ends," he spat, derision heavy in his voice, "that all of my mischief would only be harmful, that it would lead to pain if left unchecked. Because you _knew_ it was all I was capable of. You knew what ran in my blood, you knew it was all I was. You _knew_ I was worthless, you _knew_ I could never have the throne, that I would never have a place in Asgard if they knew what I was!"

"You were meant to be better! Wise and capable of a steady hand! You know how to think even when angered and insulted! You are _my son,_ my student, the child of my heart. You were supposed to show them all that it didn't take might to be worthy!"

Shannon's jaw dropped open and her eyes snapped open in time to see something in Loki's expression shatter. "Then we're both fools," he said, sitting back down on his bed.

"I wanted more for you, Loki," Frigga said, defeat in her tone. "There was supposed to be more in your life than this."

"It's all the Jotnar deserve, is it not? The awful creatures that hunt in the night," he replied bitterly, not meeting her gaze. "Stealing good little children out of their beds, bringing the darkness with them, leading to the end of times." His huff of bitter laughter made Frigga flinch and drop her chin. "I'm the thing they fear. I'm the thing they hate. Your lies won't change that about me. Your magic can't hide that."

"It's not going to hide the bodies you left in your wake, either."

"Conquering realms involves spilling blood and breaking bones. Isn't that what the great All Father had said?"

"Loki," Frigga began in a placating tone.

"It's a fine, long tradition," Loki continued, ignoring her. "All the way back to Bor, is it not? Oh, we had to learn our history. We had our _heroes_ to aspire to," he spat. "But it's all another way to show how inadequate I am, how unworthy, how deficient. A runt of a Frost Giant, a _seiðmaðr_ full of _ergi,_ how foolish to even say you wanted me on the throne. Do you really think I'd believe another of your lies?"

"I love you, Loki," Frigga cried, "but I cannot excuse your excesses!"

He looked at her with a weary expression. "That's all royalty is. Excesses. Grandeur with excuses and a body count. Using tools until they break or cease being useful. Locking away relics that might have a purpose someday."

"You owe a weregild," she told him, voice firm. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch as she looked at him. "You committed treason and nearly obliterated an entire realm. You brokered with unknown parties to force another realm to your rule. Too many lives have fallen by your hand."

"How many under the All Father's?" he countered without rancor. "How many under Bor Burison? How many under Buri—"

_"Enough."_

All eyes swung to look at Shannon, who had stepped forward with her own fists clenched. "This is all _useless._ Posturing and throwing insults around won't help _anyone."_ She turned toward Frigga, who stood with her regal poise and moist eyes. "You came here for a reason, not a social visit, and we haven't even gotten to the point. Don't be _ngu như chó,_ because we all know something is about to happen or you wouldn't have even come here."

Frigga's entire body went rigid, and Shannon had a moment of _oh fuck what did I just do_ where she thought she would collapse. "You are the one to help my son."

"That's a whole other series of issues to contend with," Shannon replied. "You're here now, and it was a formal request. We'll skip the blame game and lack of apologies and get to the actual purpose of this visit."

The queen looked stricken, and for a moment Shannon had the same sinking feeling she had when she had first started the therapy sessions with Loki. No, this was worse. There was no glass to separate her from the queen's wrath, and she was just as skilled with magic if not more so than Loki was. There was nothing to stop her, and even Natasha couldn't move fast enough to pull her out of the way of a blast.

But there was nothing of the sort coming her way. Frigga stared at Shannon in an assessing sort of way, then turned to look at Loki. "The Convergence is coming," she said finally. "And there is word of the Dark Elves rising once again, hoping to use it to destroy all of the Nine Realms."

After a beat of stunned silence, Loki began to laugh. It was a horrid sound, like glass grating against metal. He lifted his hands, exposing the golden cuffs again. "Let them. Jotunheim is all but destroyed anyway. Svartalfheim is a desolate wasteland. Muspelheim is barren of all but fire and ash. Niflheim and Helheim aren't worth anyone's time to defend. Your true worry isn't all of the Nine Realms, All Mother," he said, twisting the last words between his lips as if he could turn them into daggers. "Asgard is your true worry, of course. All the carefully collected relics and weapons would be destroyed. The golden halls would fall. Even Vanaheim wouldn't concern you, since Aesir have always had to protect the Vanir. Nidavellir contains little more than tributes and dwarves to make Asgard's tools. The elves of Alfheim are weak."

"It is because of their weakness that Asgard must protect them," Frigga said stiffly.

"So protect them," Loki threw back at her. "You so clearly indicate I am not of Asgard, and I am not of Jotunheim."

"You are Loki of Asgard."

That grating laughter made Shannon grit her teeth and step forward again. "What is the Convergence?" she asked, cutting off Loki's reply. It would no doubt be scathing, and further derail the entire meeting.

"Yggdrasil connects the Nine Realms," Frigga began, eyes on Loki even as she faced Shannon to explain when he wouldn't. "It's a tether of energy linking the realms together, and every five thousand years, the tethers tighten and become a straight line. Portals can link all of the realms together, and it was the sincere wish of the Dark Elves during the last Convergence to destroy all Nine Realms and remake them all in their image."

 _"Aiya,"_ Shannon muttered, bringing a hand up to rub at her cheek tiredly. "Because nothing ever gets done by halves."

Loki shot Shannon a caricature of a grin, eyes glittering dangerously. "You are so unprepared for this, Dr. Tran."

 _"Nhảm cứt,"_ she spat derisively. "We've gone through that already, thank you very much. So cut the crap and tell me how dangerous the Convergence really is."

Frigga looked at Shannon in alarm, then spared a glance at Natasha, who was grinning. "This is not at all—"

But Loki's laughter cut her off, and Frigga looked almost afraid of the man in the cell. "Well put, Dr. Tran," he said, a slight edge to his voice when he repeated her title. "The Convergence is not dangerous on its own. It's an anomaly that Thor's little human morsel would salivate over." His mouth snapped shut at Shannon's irritated look in his direction, not at Frigga's sharp inhalation of indignation. "If weaponized, then it can be dangerous."

"Like what you did with the Bifrost."

"Yes."

"So who can weaponize the Convergence?"

Glancing at Frigga, Loki shot her a look that was almost triumphant in a macabre sort of way. "You thought of me, didn't you? You thought I had minions out and about, willing to do this sort of thing to finish what I started. You thought the worst of me, just as you promised you would never do. But it wasn't me, _Mother,_ I was right here, locked away without my magic, bound as tightly as you wanted me to be when you put me here." His lips were drawn back again in a snarl of hatred as he lifted his fists to show off the golden cuffs.

"Loki," Frigga began in an agonized tone.

"It wasn't me. Look for your villain elsewhere," he snapped. "I'm done being your fool."

When he turned away from her, no one could miss the finality in his posture. Defeated, Frigga left the room.

***  
***


	9. Out Of The Shadows

"We're going to have to _process_ what happened, is that it?" Loki began with a condescending tone when Shannon arrived at an unscheduled time.

"I think that would be helpful," Shannon replied, shrugging. "There's a lot to unpack from that, especially with my limited knowledge of Asgard."

"It's not as limited as you claim," he said mulishly, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at a point over her head, refusing to make eye contact.

"Does it bother you?"

"Does what?" he asked, irritated. "That you're asking inane questions again? That she was even here? That she calls me a liar when she herself was the greatest liar of all?"

"That she never apologized, even when I all but said she should have."

Loki stilled, then swallowed painfully. "Ever quick to wound, aren't you?"

"Or you're ever quick to feel wounded."

While he shot her an agonized look, he didn't say anything for a moment. "You want honesty. It's far more difficult than you think."

"I know it's terrifying," she said quietly. "So we can circle back to that if you need to."

"But then you'd want to know _why_ I need to," he spat in disgust.

"I _am_ your therapist," Shannon replied with a bit of wry humor. "It'd be a shame if I missed a huge opportunity like that."

"Mustn't have that."

Shannon folded her hands on the desk and crossed her legs at the ankle under her chair, poised to wait patiently if she needed to. "A lot of things were said. Hurtful things."

"I would have to have feelings for them to be hurt."

"Are we back to that again?" she blurted in exasperation, unclasping her hands.

Loki looked at her, expression devoid of emotion. "I've disappointed you."

"Why aren't you disappointed in _yourself?"_

He blinked at her for a moment. "You think I'm not?"

"Not for a failed plan or for not being king or whatever," she said with a dismissive wave. "I don't think that was ever your endgame."

His gaze was shuttered. "Oh?"

"I suspect it was never about actual rule. It was never about having the power of the throne itself that you wanted. It was the recognition. Being seen and known."

Shannon stayed still as he narrowed his eyes at her. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

"You were honest with your mother." She held up a hand when he was about to speak. "The words you chose were calculated to hurt her, but they held truth in them. And it's a truth that she and the others on Asgard aren't willing to hear."

Loki was silent for a moment. "What would that truth be?"

"There can't be an easy forgetting of propaganda when it suits them. There has to be work involved and they'll have to earn your forgiveness just as you have to earn theirs. And ours."

"You think I want that?" he scoffed.

"You want them to admit they were wrong. That they need you, that they love you. For _you,_ not just because of what you can do or how they can use you." Shannon's voice was soft, painfully kind, and he looked away at the words. "That's how they can prove you're worthy, that you're really family."

"Interesting theory you have," he said finally.

"How far off the mark am I?"

"You were better when you were asking about Asgard. When you were dealing with stories."

"Isn't this a story, too?"

He looked back at her, expression carefully blank. "So it's my turn to tell an awful story?"

"If you like."

"They were always stories," he began slowly. "The Dark Elves, the Light Elves, the Jotnar, all of it. We'd never seen one as children, and who could believe the old tomes anyway? Stories to tell children to make them afraid of the dark, so that they wouldn't wander away. Stories to make us proud of our ancestors, proud of Asgard. We were to believe that we were the shining pinnacle of righteousness and knowledge."

Shannon remained very quiet as he spoke, a slight rasp to his voice. "When did it change?"

Loki tugged at his hair. "I was always different. This. Why couldn't they have made me look more like them? Did they really need the reminder I wasn't of their blood? That there was something wrong with me?"

"You were happy growing up."

"I was always in shadow. The one flung away as a jest, the one mocked because skills I possessed weren't valued."

Tilting her head to the side in question, she gave him a skeptical look. "Did they really? Or does it just look that way now?"

His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Our memories aren't set. They change over time, with how we experience things and interpret them or reinterpret them."

"Interesting theory."

"Shall I submit a request for the neuroscience articles for you?"

"I'd appreciate that," he replied stiffly.

"Aside from your origins, what else did Frigga lie about?"

"What?"

"You said she lied about everything. What was that everything?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I wouldn't ask if it was."

Loki leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. The back of his head hit the wall with a dull thud, but he didn't seem to notice it. "I... She was my teacher when it came to magic. The _seiðr_ specifically, because I have little patience for working the _spá._ I'm not overly fond of _galðr,_ either. Sometimes, there was swordcraft as well. Most of the Einherjar preferred a heavier two handed sword, so she would practice the one handed forms with me as a break from our studies. I was particularly adept with the seax or smaller blades."

"Was there pressure to do well?"

"There was pressure for everything. I am a prince. There are duties and responsibilities and all kinds of expectations."

His voice was dull, without inflection. Shannon drummed her fingers on the tabletop and perched her chin in hand, contemplating the flat, lifeless way he sat in front of her. 

"Is it better to not have them now?" She frowned at his listless shrug. "You can dress it up in all kinds of words, but I'm wondering if that's partly what this all was about. If you're not Loki of Asgard, who are you? What are you supposed to do?"

"I am a king," Loki said, dropping his chin to glare at her. "I am a god to you mortals."

"But what's your purpose?"

He blinked at her and remained silent.

"See, those expectations are a double edged sword, aren't they? Like those two handed ones you didn't like on Asgard. It's expected to train with them, it's expected to know how to use them, it's expected that things are done a certain way. Expectations are confining, but it's still structure. It's a framework. Guidelines." His lip curled in derision at that, and Shannon let her hand drop from her chin and leaned forward in her seat. "But what do you have if all that is yanked away? If you're not of Asgard, if you're not a prince, if you're not in line to rule the throne, what place will you have? What purpose? What are you supposed to do?"

 _"I don't know!"_ he roared at her. The tone was the same he had flung at Frigga, but she had been expecting it.

"So if someone points you at a backward realm full of people with no obvious strengths and no singular leader, seems like a good idea to conquer it, right? Rule it, give yourself a purpose and a framework you know how to operate in. Give yourself a place to belong."

"I don't like where you're going with this."

Shannon inclined her head slightly. "Thank you for telling me that."

"Are you going to thank me for any little nicety?" he sneered.

"You've come a long way since our first meeting. I thought I should acknowledge it," she said with a shrug. "If you'd rather I didn't, I don't have to."

Loki pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked his chin on top of them. With his hair long and loose, he looked like a sullen teenager. Given how long lived Asgardians could be, she supposed that was exactly what he was.

"It's easy to hate what you don't know. To conquer someone that appears weak. To hurl insults and throw knives or whatever. It's harder to pick up the broken pieces and try to put them back together in some kind of shape that makes sense." She tapped the table lightly. "It's not easy to figure out a new place for yourself if you think the old one is forever lost."

"It is," he mumbled, tightening his arms around his knees.

"Maybe it was never the right place for you," she said gently, still tapping the table. It was a steady rhythm, almost like a metronome. "Maybe that's why you were uncomfortable. It was a place you didn't really fit, and cutting off pieces of yourself to make yourself fit into their view of you left you feeling lost."

"Broken, you mean."

"That, too."

"Don't you dare feel sorry for me, Shannon," he snarled, eyes glittering.

"I don't," she replied honestly. "Because you also had every advantage handed to you and wasted every single one. You might have felt broken, but then you made damn sure everyone around you got to feel that way, too. Instead of learning from it, pushing yourself to be a person better than those around you, you pulled them all down to your level."

"Get out," he whispered. "You're not helping."

"Only if you don't want me to." She put her palms flat on the table and then pushed herself up to stand. "We can retread the same information over and over and over if we have to, but don't you get tired of that? Don't you want to do something _different?"_

"Different doesn't help."

"Maybe it didn't on Asgard. But you're not there now, and you're not going to be there for a very long time. So think about it."

"You're leaving," he noted as she packed up her things, unfolding his legs from his chest. "You didn't even take any notes."

Shannon knew her smile didn't reach her eyes. "You asked me to leave."

"In two days," he began in an uncertain tone.

"I'll be here. Usual time."

Loki nodded and his shoulders settled a bit as he sighed. "I'll be here, too."

Neither mentioned that he had nowhere else to go.

***

"You, my friend, need a drink."

Shannon looked up from the kitchen table as Gina plopped a glass in front of her. It was a simple iced tea, but she shook a glass bottle in front of Shannon's face in invitation. "No additions," Shannon said, taking the glass. "Thanks."

"Party pooper," Gina teased, settling down in her seat at the table. She eyed the book in front of Shannon, highlighted and tagged, worn in spots. "You'd think you'd be done with the reading once you're out of grad school."

"Continuing ed credits," Shannon replied, shrugging.

"You don't have to recertify yet," Gina protested.

"Refreshing my memory."

Gina snorted. "Like you don't know what you're doing."

"Ever found out what was going on with those Chitauri blood drugs?" Shannon asked, blatantly switching subject.

Taking the hint, Gina nodded. "Yeah. Some clean up crews had gotten a hold of a few body parts that had gotten missed. It makes me wonder what else the federal crews missed, you know? If it's good enough for government work, it's still a shit job."

Shannon snorted her giggle, nearly choking on the iced tea. "Can't say that's a wrong assessment, either," she said, pushing the book away from her. "So is it something truly nasty that they need you to cook up a cure for?"

"Nope. But some of the properties are interesting. We might be isolating some proteins to see if they have medical applications," she said with a grin, excitement making her eyes sparkle. "Not that I could ever get anything mainstream right away, but if there are actual practical applications to what we're finding, it could be _amazing."_

"Like cure for cancer amazing?" Shannon asked.

"Could very well be," Gina nodded enthusiastically. "I was thinking of putting in a request to Central to get their take on my preliminary results."

"What are your odds on getting a response?"

"Probably pretty good. Weaver's really good at thinking outside the box and helps out a lot of teams she doesn't personally know. So I'm excited."

"That's awesome for you. Going to celebrate at The Watering Hole and need company?" Shannon guessed with a smile.

"You know me so well," Gina chirped. "Plus, you've been moping around with your books and you don't have your parents to visit now. So we'll go out, listen to whatever local band is playing tonight and drink some shitty beer."

"I don't drink."

"Okay, so _I_ will drink some shitty beer, and you can have root beer."

"Do you think Henry will be there this time?" Shannon asked, shutting her book.

The innocent tone didn't fool Gina one bit. "Why don't we go and find out?" She grinned and got up. "You need to get out of your head a little more often."

***

"What you said before," Clint began as he plopped into a seat across from Shannon in her office, "I've been thinking about it."

"And?"

His jaw was clenched. "Yeah. There are things it reminded me of. Things I didn't want to know about myself. Things I'm capable of doing."

"Your behavior under mind control isn't the same as your behavior when _you're_ in control," Shannon pointed out.

"The mind control isn't what people think it is," he said, strain evident in every line of his body. He was on alert, eyes fixed on her face, his hands grabbing the armrests of the chair in a white knuckled grip. "It's not that I wasn't there, or that I was watching myself from a distance. It's like emotions were completely disconnected from my body. I didn't feel anything. _Nothing._ I had no sense of right or wrong, that I should be sorry for anything that was going on. I had only the mission, only the most expedient route to get there."

"And lives carried no value in that calculation."

He nodded stiffly, lips pressed tightly together. "They weren't even a consideration."

"So the mind control suppressed your soul."

Clint blinked slowly. "You believe in souls."

"You don't?"

"Lady, I don't know what to believe about that. If there's a heaven or hell after we die, I know exactly where I'm going, and I'm not too keen on getting there anytime soon."

"Because of your job?"

"Because of _everything._ I'm no saint, not gonna even pretend I am one."

"But when it's up to _you,_ when you call the shots, you preserve life."

"I'm a selfish bastard and no better than anyone else in the facility."

"So why hold yourself up to a higher standard?"

"I don't."

"What I'm hearing is that you should have shaken off the mind control. That you should have been able to counter magic you knew nothing about. That you never should have taken any lives, that anything you did for SHIELD wasn't good enough."

Clint remained silent for a moment. "When you put it like that, it sounds dumb."

"Not dumb. More of an impossible goal to meet, so you'd never be able to reach it. You'd never succeed, and you'd always feel like a failure."

"Keeps me honest, I guess," Clint replied with a shrug.

"But also wears you down. How can you handle going day after day after day beating yourself up for something that'll never happen? No one is perfect. No one can be infalliable, or constantly make the right decision."

"I'm the guy with a bow," he said after a moment. "I have to push, have to be the best. I have to always the hit the mark. If I don't, and someone's hurt, that's on me."

"What if you're not the best?" Shannon asked quietly.

He broke eye contact and stared at one of the paintings on her wall, a landscape with a weeping willow tree next to a pond. "Then why show up? I'd be just another shmuck that nobody wants hanging around. You're only as good as your last mission."

"Have any of your supervisors said that?" Clint shook his head, still staring at the picture. "So why do you think that way about your performance here?"

"That's how it always is. You're only kept around if you're useful."

"Hm. Seems like there's a story here I don't know about."

"There's a lot here that you don't know about."

"What do you feel comfortable telling me?"

His jaw tightened again. "None of it, really."

Shannon sat there quietly for a long time, waiting him out. As a sniper, he was used to waiting, too. She had promised she wouldn't push before he was ready, so she sat primly in her seat, hands folded in her lap. When the silence got too much to bear and she wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, she squeezed her fingers together or dug her fingernails into her palm, chewed on the inside of her mouth or wiggled her toes inside of her dress shoes. It was difficult to look indifferent, because she had the urge to _say something,_ to dive right in and _help_ and sitting there so still made her feel helpless.

"My dad hit us," Clint said finally, still staring at the painting on the wall behind her. "That's not in any SHIELD file. They know about my time in the army, working in the circus before that, but not why I wound up there in the first place."

"And no one helped?"

He stared at Shannon, muscles in the side of his jaw twitching. "He was mean, he was a drunk, and everyone knew that he was no good loser with two no good loser kids."

"So if you hit the mark every time, if you go above and beyond, then you know you're not a loser. You're not him."

"Yeah."

"How will you know that you've gathered enough proof?" Shannon asked, brows furrowed. It was an obvious connection for Clint to have made, and she was sure that he was drastically underplaying the amount of trauma he had lived through. "If he was a drunk and a loser, he probably never left the place he was born in."

"Nope. Never."

"But you've been all over the world. You're working in an organization dedicated to helping others. You've served the country. I don't know what you've done in the circus, but that can't have been easy. Now you're an Avenger." She frowned. "How is that not enough proof that you're not him?"

Clint was silent for a moment. "What if it's a fluke?"

"I don't understand. What if _what's_ a fluke?"

"Being an Avenger. Being trusted. The clearance I have is higher than yours. But they might've made a mistake about that."

"Director Fury doesn't strike me as the kind of man that makes that kind of mistake."

He looked at her, and then suddenly started laughing, covering his face with one hand. "I didn't think of that."

"If you can't trust your opinion of your own skills, and you don't know me well enough to even begin to trust mine, I think you can trust his."

"Nat thinks you can be trusted."

"Sounds like high praise."

"She doesn't trust anybody."

"So it is."

"So it is," he agreed with a nod, folding his hands in his laps. "And it's not easy to. Trust, I mean." He sighed. "I'm no good at this spy shit."

"It's easier to take orders and not think about it, and not have to make the tough calls."

The faint amusement on his face slid right off. "Yeah. That."

"Except you do think about it. You _do_ make the tough calls."

"No, I don't."

Shannon snorted and leaned back in her chair. "I don't know enough about the codes and whatnot in some of the cases you worked. A fair bit was redacted when I was given access, too. But I saw the parts that you filled out, and somehow there's a fair bit of sarcasm that was able to come through in the reports."

Clint shot her a wry look. "That obvious?"

"If you're looking for it. And if you've done enough chart reviews to make your eyes bleed."

He laughed, startled again by the dryness of her tone. "Shit, medical charts are probably just as bad as mission reports, aren't they?"

"Ever read a surgical report or an imaging study? Not exactly the most scintillating reading."

"Why would you need to read that?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Part of the neuropsych testing training I did before I veered off into forensics. I thought I would be a school psychologist."

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Huh. Working with kids is your thing?"

"It's not too different from what I'm doing now," she replied cheekily.

Clint laughed again and leaned back a bit in his chair. "Fair enough."

"I think what you need to do is try keeping track of the helpful things you've done. The positives of the cases you've worked on."

"Even if there were deaths?" he asked, voice dull.

"You already keep track of those," she said, tapping her temple. "But I don't think you don't keep track of the deaths you prevent."

He pursed his lips for a moment. "Like Nat's ledger."

Shannon blinked. "She keeps one?"

"Figuratively, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's a literal one, too."

"Well, maybe it's time you do, too." Shannon leaned forward. "If this is about accounting for the past mistakes and proving you're not like your father, you need to actually keep track of the proof, don't you think?" She held up a hand when he opened his mouth. "You don't necessarily have to show me the details. It'll be enough if you bring in a notebook and I can see that pages are filled out."

"Paperwork," he sighed, discontent.

"Nobody told you there would be homework in therapy, did they?" she commiserated.

"Vallejo tried that shit. Didn't do it."

"Will you do this one?"

"I'll think about it."

Shannon nodded and stood so she could open the door. "Well, think hard, and try it out. I'll see you back in two weeks, and you can tell me how it went."

"That sure I'll do it?"

"I think you're just as curious as I am to see what the final tally will be."

***

"So who's capable of weaponizing the Convergence?"

"Not even trying to ease into it?" Loki sighed.

"Would you appreciate that kind of glad handling?" Shannon asked in an arch tone.

"No," he replied, expression sulky. He had pulled his long hair back into a ponytail, and had rolled up his sleeves prior to her entrance. The gold cuffs reflected the light back at them, and he sat very stiffly.

"Frigga's still on Earth, by the way."

"Visiting that oaf of a son?"

"No call to be rude," Shannon said mildly.

Loki still flinched. "Asgard has enemies."

"Of course. Every realm would."

"They've never acknowledged any of them as close to being a threat," Loki said, pulling his legs up to sit cross legged on his bed. "Asgard is the shining beacon of hope, after all. They've won all the wars worth winning."

Shannon shrugged at his sarcastic, bitter tone. "Propaganda. We know that now, don't we?"

"What do you want?" Loki asked, hands flat on his thighs.

"To know who can weaponize astronomical phenomena."

"Asgard has enemies, just as SHIELD does. It isn't always seen as benevolent, especially those on the wrong end of wars we've won."

 _We._ He was still an Asgardian at heart, still clung to what he was raised in. Shannon could understand that, and why he hurt so much.

"If you were going to do it, how would you?"

"You think me capable of that?" he asked, voice hollow.

"Yes. No," Shannon corrected when his jaw tightened. "I think you know how to, but that you would never. It's your home. It's where you grew up. You can't let go of that so easily, and the memories haunt you. That's supposed to be the safe place, where you're supposed to belong."

He shot her a watery, weary smile. "We both know I belong nowhere now."

"Now," she agreed. "But then. Then, it was your home."

"I have no home, no place. It's all darkness and ash."

"Yeah, you've burned your bridges," Shannon agreed. "But if you could build a new place, a new home, and—"

"It's a useless dream."

"Is it really?"

"Of course it is."

"So who would want to destroy Asgard? Who hates it as much as you love it?"

"I don't love it," he protested. "They cast me out. They made me a monster—"

Shannon raised a hand to stop him. "It's how you describe it. The stories, the history, the memories that you have of the place. Let's not dance around that, okay? If I asked you to close your eyes and think of _home,_ it would be Asgard. If I asked you describe your ideal place to be, it would be Asgard. That place is part of you, no matter what you try to do."

He stared at her with narrowed eyes. "You presume much."

"You know, I don't think I do on this point."

Loki didn't move. "What are you getting at?"

"You've been doing homework all along. The practice for the relaxation exercises, the thought records. I think you're very much aware of the common themes in them."

"You're supposed to draw conclusions."

"And help you draw your own."

Unhappy with that response, Loki fell silent. Finally, he raised his right hand in a fist, showing off the golden cuff. "I'm limited. Chained. Kept locked away as the Casket of Ancient Winters was, as the everliving flames, as the Destroyer was, as Tesseract is now, as any number of other treasures hoarded away. Secrets, one and all."

"Most of them are dangerous in the wrong hands."

"Have them think on the past. Have them determine their own enemies. They shouldn't have you doing their dirty work, pulling at your strings from the shadows."

"Is that how it felt for you? Putting others under mind control?"

He made a harsh, scoffing sound. "There was no direct control, however those mortal fools want to call it. I simply superseded my will for theirs. My goals were theirs. My intentions were most important, and they existed to please me. It was no more and no less than that." 

"Isn't that how you feel Odin treated you?"

Loki froze, and then dropped his fist into his lap. "That was... I didn't see that comment coming."

"You were doing what you thought you had to. You were being who you thought you had to be," Shannon murmured. "Living up to the ideals from the stories you were told. Acting like Bor Burison and Odin Borson. Diving in and taking control, and then intending to extend your ideals and rule over everything."

"I am a king," Loki whispered.

"Of what kingdom?"

He flinched and looked away. "None, now."

"What was _your_ dream, Loki? Before coming to Earth with the Chitauri? What was it that you had wanted?"

"I only wanted to be Thor's equal," he said quietly. "I wanted to show them I was worthy. I could rule, I was of Asgard, I was who they wanted me to be."

"What did _you_ want?"

"Magic," he said in that same hushed tone, as if the moment would shatter if he let go of it. "Knowledge." He paused and let out a sigh, then closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. "You weren't too off from the mark before," he said after a moment. "I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be _known._ But I wasn't."

"Maybe it's time you realized that you only gave them glimpses of who you could be. That all they saw were shadows in the first place. If you hide yourself away and only show pieces, if you cut off bits to fit their mold, you're not going to recognize who's left."

Loki looked up and there was a thread of pain in his expression. "They don't want what they can't see. They don't want what I have to offer."

"How do you know if you've never even tried to show them?"

"They don't want it. It's how everyone speaks, the culture of the place, what they value. It isn't what I can offer, it never was."

"So you'll break the mold and reshape it?"

His lip curled in a pained grimace. "I am better than they've ever given me credit for. I would have been a great king. I would have given them the victory that would have been sung about for the ages. I would have shown them that I'm not this monstrous blood. I would have been _good,_ if only they'd let me."

"I think it's time you figured out what _your_ good can be. What you can do for yourself, what you can want for yourself. Separate from them, not tied to their expectations and their history and their wants. It's okay to want things for yourself. It's okay to let your history inform you, to let all of that help shape you. But ultimately, it's _your_ decision what to do with yourself, and _you_ are the one responsible for yourself. No one else."

"Tell me what you want," he said, his voice cracking.

"I can't. This isn't about me."

"Isn't it? Softening me up for your masters, so that Agent Romanoff can bring something back to her superiors, so that they can barter with Asgard—"

Shannon didn't rise to the bait. "This isn't about me. It's about you."

"I am nothing. They all saw to that."

"No, Loki. You did that. You burned your bridges and fell into shadows and rejected what people were trying to say when it didn't align with how you saw things. Family isn't just about blood. It's about who's with you and who is there for you and who you tie yourself to. You had all that, and didn't rely on it when you needed to."

"They saw to that."

"No, you did."

He launched himself to his feet and paced with jerky, agitated steps. "You don't understand."

"I think I do."

"You can't. You're mortal. You've lived here, in this backwater hell—"

"I'm the youngest, too. I studied a field that no one in my culture really cares about at best, or makes fun of at worst. It's concerned more about doing what's expected of me to help my family save face, yet we live in a country that cares about the individual." She narrowed her eyes slightly at him. "Did you think you were the only one that had to deal with concepts like that? The only one to ever struggle with your feelings?"

"I may have suspected some of that," Loki said, facing her, not far from the glass at all.

"Maybe there were shadows under the golden glory of Asgard," Shannon told him, "but you were the one that magnified them. You made them darker. You ignored the light that was there for you."

"I didn't _want_ to feel that way!"

"But you also didn't try to change it," she pointed out. "You didn't reach out to people that cared about you. You didn't _talk_ to them. You manipulated them, you lied to them, you undermined everything they were because you were hurt."

Loki didn't respond for a long time. "I thought you were supposed to help me."

"It does you no favors to ignore all of that. It doesn't help you if we pretend none of it happened, or make you feel like you had no part in it. It doesn't help you to pretend you're not different, and that you didn't kill thousands, and you lash out when angry or upset. You need to face the consequences of the choices you've made."

"I'm here, aren't I?!" he roared.

"Yes, you are. And as much as your family never apologized to you for their part in your hurts, you've also never apologized to them. You want their forgiveness just as much as they want yours," Shannon said flatly.

He let out a slow breath. "I don't know if I can forgive. Or if I should."

"Even if they can't say the words, I think they're ready to forgive you."

"That shouldn't be possible."

Shannon gave him a sad, weary smile. "Instead of thinking of how things _should be_ or _could be,_ think of them as they actually are. Accurately, not how you _feel_ it is. Because let's face it, your feelings are all jumbled up and can't be trusted."

Instead of exploding in anger, he laughed bitterly. "You're not wrong."

She nodded with that same expression. "So you have a lot to think about."

"Indeed."

***  
***


	10. Catch And Release

Clint Barton strolled into Shannon's office and dropped a student's marble notebook on her desk with a triumphant smile. "There. For you."

She looked up at him in surprise. "You're going to let me read it?"

"I've got nothing to hide."

Shannon began paging through it, then looked up with a wry grin. "Shorthand, I'm guessing?"

The smile turned into a wide grin. "See? Nothing to hide."

"The important part is that you did it," she said honestly, smiling wider. "This is a lot of work, I'm very impressed and proud of you."

That seemed to throw him a bit. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she told him sincerely. "This was hard work. _A lot_ of hard work." If anything, that seemed to make him uncomfortable. "Is it the work that's tough to deal with, the memories it brought up, or the fact that I'm giving you a compliment?"

"Can I say D, all of the above?"

Lifting an eyebrow and cocking her head in challenge, Shannon remained silent.

Clint eventually sighed. "It feels like every death in those cases is on me. That I should've done something different to have prevented it."

"How accurate is that statement?"

He frowned at her. "What?"

"How accurate is that?" Shannon tapped the notebook and then slid it back across her desk for him to look at. "How much of the deaths were in your control?"

Taking the notebook in hand, he flipped back to the first page with pursed lips. "I didn't know there was going to be a bomb," he said finally, looking at it. "There was no way I could've. So those twenty injured and six deaths, I guess they're not my fault."

"Logically, you can see that, right?"

Looking up, he shook his head. "Maybe, but I had done the background checks. I should've known he was capable of it."

"So it was in your control that the guy brought a bomb? It was in your control how many people were hurt or killed when it went off?"

He scowled at her. "When you say it like that, it sounds stupid."

"This is what you've been telling yourself for years."

"Not _deliberately!_ I mean..." He let out a frustrated breath and snapped the book shut. "I am a SHIELD agent and apparently an Avenger now. But for years, I was just the guy with the bow. Maybe a sniper rifle. I'm only as good as my aim. I have to make the shot, have to hit it dead on. If I'm not the best..."

"What's there to tell you apart from all the other agents?" Shannon guessed when he fell silent.

He nodded and swallowed painfully, then looked up at a point past her shoulder. "I'm not supposed to hurt people. I'm supposed to save them."

"And that mission with the bomb... How many did you save?"

"Not enough."

"But how many?" Shannon pressed.

"There were over a hundred people at that festival, if not more," he said through grit teeth. "But I should have been able to—"

_"Stop."_

Clint's gaze slid back at her in surprise. "You raised your voice."

"Well yeah, you're being dumb right now. You're a smart man and a very capable agent that they trust in SHIELD. You're part of Strike Team Delta, with so many closed cases that were deemed impossible. That's not the work of someone that's expected to be a mind reader. Even with gods and monsters and fairy tales coming to life, that's still not something that's common."

"Well, that's one point, but—"

"But nothing. _How many did you save?_ Focus on that."

"It was at least a hundred."

"The next one in the book," Shannon prompted.

He frowned at her, but pointed to the next smudge of writing in the notebook. "Just the number of people saved?"

"Yes," Shannon insisted.

Clint tossed the book down on the desk instead. "That's not the important part."

"I think those hundred people would disagree."

His frown deepened into a frightening looking scowl. "The point is to save everyone."

"Sometimes you can't," Shannon said gently. "Sometimes, it's about saving as many as you can. It's doing the most good in the place you are, and watching the effect ripple out from there."

He grimaced at her, and pressed his fist against his mouth as he looked away. He wasn't actually seeing the door or the corner of the room, but some kind of internal struggle that she could never know. "That feels like a cop out," he said finally, not looking at her. "Because it's about the people you couldn't save. For every one that you do, there could be dozens out there hurt worse that needed it more."

"Who are you to judge who needs it more?"

Now his eyes snapped to her, fist clenched tighter. "I'm not the man that tosses people aside. I'm not the one that will ever treat people as disposable. I don't hurt kids."

"Who do you know that did?"

That shut him down, and he clenched his jaw so tight that Shannon thought she could hear teeth grind together. Just as she was about to backpedal, Clint got to his feet and left the office without another word.

Shannon picked up the notebook that he had left behind. Every single page in it was filled with those cryptic markings, and she suspected that even looking up standard shorthand online wouldn't help her find out what he had written. This book was for him alone, and she really didn't mind not knowing the particulars. But if just about every mission written down had a similar ratio, then he easily discounted the tens of thousands of lives that were saved because of the few hundred that couldn't be.

She couldn't be the judge for who was worthy enough of living or dying, just as he couldn't be. In a sense, she would be indirectly responsible for future lives saved. That was rather the nature of forensic psychology, and maybe it was a sense of cowardice, too. She wasn't directly at fault if something went wrong, just as it wouldn't be her triumph if it went well.

 _We're all hiding something,_ she thought with a sigh, putting the notebook down. She had notes to write and theories to think about.

***

"What do you think is the difference between the heroes and the villains?" Shannon asked Loki abruptly at the start of their next session.

That seemed to throw him, but Loki honestly considered that for a moment. "The conventional idea about that is the choices that they make. Those of the hero are self sacrificing, and villains are only too willing to throw away the lives of others for what they want."

"Though most of the time, villains think of themselves as heroes, too."

Loki's jaw worked, but he otherwise stayed silent. He watched Shannon as she drummed her fingers on the desk, twirling a pen. "You have a point to this," he said finally.

"I've been pondering this Convergence thing." At Loki's sour look, she shrugged. "I don't know enough about it, so I was doing some reading in astronomy. I used to like reading about it when I was little, but all the information out there now is way over my head. I never liked physics in school, and astronomy is some pretty high level physics."

"Why would you care?"

"I live on this realm. If it gets destroyed, I do, too."

Loki paused, then leaned back on his bed, the back of his head hitting the wall. He tucked his loose hair behind his ears after a moment, light glinting off the cuffs. "And I will perhaps finally get my due, locked away as I am here."

"I don't think you really believe that."

"No?" he asked with arch tones. "Don't I require punishment?"

Shannon cocked her head to the side. "You think utter destruction of all nine realms is the punishment that fits what you've done? That's excessive, don't you think?"

He pressed his lips together. "There was nearly destroying all of Jotunheim. Not to mention bringing the Chitauri here. Genocide, I believe your masters called it."

She didn't rise to the bait and merely looked at him in concern. "Did you personally wrong them, too? The ones that would weaponize the Convergence?"

"There are far worse things in the galaxy than enemies of Asgard," he said quietly. "Those that worship death in all its forms, those who crave the merest chance to take it apart and levy death indiscriminately across thousands of worlds." He gave her a sad, bitter smile. "You'd never last an hour with them. You're too gentle."

"Like a pet?" she asked archly.

Loki's laughter was bitter. "Did you ask them? Who the enemies of Asgard would be?"

"I was told it's above my pay grade."

"So they would have you do their dirty work and keep you ignorant of its importance."

She frowned at him. "Who would enemies of Asgard be?"

"You don't know enough of our history or culture. The wars fought and won, the ways of life that they tried so hard to instill across the Nine." He tapped the runes of one cuff. "It's too dangerous, you know. The different kinds of magic, the power inherent in the artifacts and old ways. They had to be snuffed out."

"I'm sure the how will follow the who."

He blinked at her. "What?"

"I mean, _how_ to weaponize things would make sense once they figure out _who_ would want to do it, right?"

"The Convergence equals raw energy. The very laws of the world that you cling to can change in an instant, then change back." His smile was a gash of teeth across his face. "The polarity of your world changed as the result of one, were you aware?"

Shannon lofted an eyebrow at him. "Huh. The polarity changes?"

"Thanks to the Convergence. So you can see how dangerous that can be, how it could destroy entire worlds with little effort."

"Is that how you would do it?"

Loki shot her a sour look. "It's random that way. I would at least direct the energies dispelled, create something of meaning to me."

"Another Asgard?"

His eyes flashed. "They cast me out. I would create something better than a pale imitation."

"What would your world look like?" Shannon asked in curiosity.

Loki's lips compressed. "You're mocking me."

"No, I'm really curious. What's your world like? What's your ideal?"

Shannon could see a slight shiver in his torso as his gaze turned inward. When he finally spoke, he described a land of golden spires and elaborate stonework, a place of magic and might side by side to keep the land safe. It sounded isolated, magic and music and warriors fighting only for sport and not war.

"That's what you wanted for Asgard," she murmured when he fell silent. "That was your hope for the future, if you were the one to rule."

"It's hardly a bad dream," Loki replied in a similarly hushed tone.

"No, it's not. That's your template for a world worth living in, right? And everyone will have a different template." She made a dismissive gesture. "The higher ups can figure out who would be the one wanting to destroy Asgard and how they'd use the Convergence. I'm more concerned about this theme of punishment you have going on here. Your ideal of Asgard that you would have built... I think you're using that to punish yourself, because this isn't enough."

Loki stared at her with narrowed eyes for a long moment. "I didn't choose to be here. This was not my choice of punishment."

"Somehow, I think you could have fought it harder. But you still think you're a monster and that all you deserve is pain and misery."

"Is that not how it goes?"

"I've noticed that we come back to this whenever we touch on something painful." Loki made a dismissive sound and looked away, letting his hair obscure her view of his eyes. "Because if you are only a monster in need of punishment, you don't really have to process or feel. You're just a mindless beast caught in a trap that has to be let go someday, and all that hurt doesn't have to stick. But it does," Shannon said, leaning forward and crossing her arms on the table. She frowned at him, and decided to push. "You'd rather ignore it, pretend it doesn't exist, that you're an evil bastard without any feelings for others. You'd rather be a soulless monster than someone traumatized by your own dumbass decisions."

He turned back toward her, jaw tight and eyes suspiciously shiny. "Is that what you truly think of me, then?"

"I think that's what you think of yourself."

"Not so very flattering."

"It's not meant to be."

"No, you don't flatter. You don't pander, do you? Except when your masters want you doing their dirty work, when they couldn't be bothered to ask for themselves."

"Oh, please," Shannon replied, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her seat. "You want Frigga in here so that you can hurt each other again? Hurl insults at her until she feels something and maybe will apologize or beg forgiveness? She's a Queen, just as you're a Prince, and apologies are beneath all of you."

Loki sputtered, the shine gone from his eyes. "You foul, dull—"

"Oh, come on," Shannon said, realizing she was reacting just as badly to this as he was. She would have to analyze that later, see why it was hitting her so hard, but for the moment her pulse was pounding in her throat and she was nearly shaking with emotion. "You're all so used to getting what you want, and it probably never occurred to anyone that you shouldn't! That you need to know how to deal with failure. Not in absolutes, not that you're a monster because something didn't work. Sometimes life just sucks, and you need to be able to cope with it like everyone else. Your family didn't do you any favors on that front, so stop idolizing them and feeling like they're all perfect. They're just people, and they have flaws too."

Oh. _Oh._ That was definitely something she would have to discuss with Natasha in supervision, because it certainly cut too close to home.

His jaw worked, and he seemed to be contemplating his thoughts carefully. "You've said words to that effect before."

"Still true."

He stared at her for a long moment. "If someone is broken, if they're caught in patterns they can't break, then it's too difficult to create something new."

"I don't think you believe that, not when you have an image of Asgard so beautiful it breaks your heart every time you think of it."

Loki flinched and looked at a spot over her head as he clenched his hands together in his lap. "The papers you brought me, that they allowed me to read..."

"Yes?"

"There are errors in them."

Shannon couldn't help but sputter with laughter. "Oh. Not my field, I had no idea. If you want, you can submit your corrections and I'll try to send them in for you."

"That, I can fix."

"Use that a starting point."

Loki stared at her for a moment. "There are absolutes in mathematics and physics."

She snorted. "And my scientist roommate would tell you the opposite. Absolutes in the theorems are just because we put them there, because we don't know enough about how it works. I remember enough about science, stuff actually called an uncertainty principle. You can observe or you can measure, but you can't do both at once."

"All we are able to do here is observe."

"Then we'll have to see if I'm allowed to measure." She offered him a hopeful smile. "You correct those papers, and I'll see what I can do."

"You're always so careful not to promise success."

"You deserve better than a well meaning lie."

And on that startled note, she packed up her belongings and left.

***

Shannon was in the middle of writing her notes when there was a knock at the door, jarring her from the train of thought she was trying to follow. "Come in," she called, not sure who would need to meet with her.

Clint Barton stood at the door even after he opened it. "I wanted my notebook."

Nodding, Shannon got up and retrieved it from one of the file cabinets in her office. "Here."

"Um. Thanks."

"We're still on for tomorrow at three. Why not pick it up then?"

He shot her an abashed look. "I wanted to get it before I lost my nerve."

"Lose your nerve?" she echoed.

"I was thinking," he began slowly, as if used to the crack _You were?_ and nearly expected her to use it as well. "Um. Keeping track, I mean." He rubbed at the back of his neck in an awkward gesture she'd never seen him make before. "I dug up the old records. Not the redacted ones you have access to, but the actual ones with all of the data in them. Some have annotations after the fact."

"I didn't think files could be annotated."

"I didn't either. But they were. By supervisors correcting information in them."

"You made a mistake?" she asked, surprised. "I wouldn't think you'd make mistakes like that."

"Notes said I downplayed the importance of my involvement."

Shannon gave him a wry smile. "Okay, correction, I do think you'd make a mistake like that."

"So, I figured you'd want to know."

"Why not discuss it in a session?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why come now, when you're supposed to be here tomorrow?"

"Seemed important at the time," Clint mumbled. "And I wanted the book," he said, waving it in her general direction.

"For what purpose?"

Now he seemed embarrassed. "I thought I'd correct it."

"Even though I can't read it."

"But I can."

Her smile turned broad and pleased. His bashful smile widened a bit as well. "By all means. Correct it, and we can talk about it tomorrow."

"I don't think I'm up for that, yet," he said hastily.

"Not the details, Agent Barton," she assured him. "But what the corrections were about and why it was important to you. We're still dancing around the trauma stuff."

"Dancing," he scoffed.

"You'll tell me when I'm safe," she said with a shrug. "I can wait." She could afford to take the long view on this, even if he was ager to return to work and _not think_ about everything that had happened to him. Unfortunately, there were still scars all over the NYC skyline, as well as over his memories. Shannon didn't think it would heal clean or easy, as much as he might wish it to.

"The others didn't wait."

"I guess I'm more patient."

"You care what I think. Nat told me that."

"Maybe I'll get you to care what you think, too," she teased. He chuckled a bit at that. "I'll see you tomorrow, Agent Barton."

***

Natasha didn't seem to be terribly surprised by Shannon bringing up her emotional response to her last session with Loki. "The video," she said with a shrug when Shannon pointed that out. "I refresh my memory about what had happened before the supervision sessions, so that we're talking about the same thing."

"I felt like I was the one falling apart, which makes no logical sense."

"But we're not talking about logic here."

"No, we're not," Shannon said, shaking her head and letting out a slow breath. "It cut too close. Feeling like I'm a failure because I couldn't do my job and still study and hang out with Gina and keep up with my other friends from college, or make other friends in the psych department here, or feel a little more charitable toward my siblings..." She rubbed at her jaw tiredly and leaned back in her chair with another sigh. "I haven't even called my brother. I can't remember the last time I did. I sent an e-mail for his birthday, and he replied, but that was about it."

"That's not a good thing for your culture, is it?"

"Oh, I'm an ungrateful bitch," Shannon replied, bitterness only too evident in her tone. "Because David finally stepped up, and I should be grateful that he did, and that my sister will help at some point that's convenient for her and her clinic hours." She shook her head with another sigh. "They didn't say anything, of course, but I know they're thinking it."

"You _know,"_ Natasha echoed, "even though they didn't say anything."

Shannon winced when she realized what she heard. "Shit."

"I seem to recall you telling Loki about being accurate."

 _"Chết mẹ,"_ Shannon sighed.

"I'm pretty sure that's language your mother didn't teach you."

"Oh, hell no. She'd be horrified if she knew, but there was a Viet club in college and some of them were all about the cursing and were too happy to teach me," she said wryly. "There's always the draw about corrupting the innocent, I think."

"Because nothing and no one is perfect, and that's a way to prove it. If it's not perfect, then you're not unworthy and rejected."

Nodding, Shannon folded her hands over her stomach and tried not to feel inadequate next to Natasha. She was just as short but not as fit, and she wasn't deadly by any means. "I'm going to need to push Loki. I've been taking too soft an approach."

"He did need it in the beginning, but I think if you stay there, the two of you will be going over the same things for years."

"Employment security?" Shannon tried to joke.

Natasha didn't smile. "You can do better."

Shannon sighed. "I don't like being mean. It's not right, it's not what I'm supposed to do."

"And you've always done what you're supposed to do."

"Pretty much," Shannon admitted.

"And where has that gotten you?"

She blew out a long breath. "I haven't gotten everything that I'm supposed to have at this point."

"Is any of that _supposed to_ what you actually want?"

Shannon blew out a slow breath. "I haven't thought about it, to be honest. It was always pushing hard for the next goal, then the next, then the next. I never stopped to think about what it was _for._ I've always assumed that I would get married and have kids someday, and I can see that with Henry." She flushed and looked down at her hands. "He probably would want something like that, too. Science division," she added as he looked up at Natasha. "Studious, likes jazz and hip hop, has a really cute laugh."

Natasha gave her a soft look. "You assumed. But is that what you want?"

"I think? I mean, I see pictures of my nieces and nephews and I want that. But I don't want to lose myself in the process, or feel like I'm putting them second to a career. It's not like it's easy to balance all aspects of life, especially if we're supposed to be caretakers."

It was a little amazing to see sympathy in Natasha's gaze, that she wasn't going to say something demeaning or cutting in light of her words. Maybe it wasn't just her fighting skills that made her a badass.

"What you want from your career and what you want in your personal life don't have to be separate. I think you're making the same mistake that your patients are."

Shannon bit her lip and thought about it for a moment. "Thinking too small?"

"The assumptions," Natasha pointed out. "Don't soft pedal because you think they can't handle it. I think they can, and I think you can, too."

Tapping the desk between them as she thought, Shannon pursed her lips. "Then I think we need to expand Loki's cell a bit. Or take him out of it for a period of time every day. The place is stifling, and he can't grow if he's locked in there. We keep talking about artifacts and how he was stuck on Asgard with no place. If he's going to be in that cell, it's not going to be any better. And we need to do better."

"What do you suggest? Letting him go?"

"No. But a yard or some kind of fenced in area, something he can see the sky and sun and feel like he's not kept in a cage all the time." She gave Natasha an earnest look. "I might need balance in my own life, but he _definitely_ does. He didn't know how to get it before, and that means we have to teach him. We have to show him how to be what he needs to be."

Natasha looked at her steadily, then slowly nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

***  
***


	11. Hiding In Your Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sick and I'm about to go on vacation visiting family for two weeks. So here's a chapter to tide you over until I get back to a computer again. I will still be able to make comments and such via phone (they really are mini computers but are crap for writing fic!) so we can still chat and such. :)

Loki had thought that Shannon Tran was up to something, but he couldn't have exactly said how he knew that. She showed up for the scheduled sessions, and she dutifully pushed him to continue with poking at the darker corners of his mind. It shouldn't have mattered, but he didn't want her thinking badly of him. It was hard enough knowing how terrible he actually was, and how disappointed Frigga was.

The day she walked in with a grin on her face with Natasha Romanoff, he _knew_ there was something planned for him. He hoped that it wasn't something diabolical, not from Shannon, but tossing Natasha into the mix changed things. Natasha Romanoff would have no compunction harming him, not like Shannon would.

Before he could ask what was going on, the glass parted, leaving him without any barrier. "This is new," he said, glad his voice was level.

Shannon looked so happy, so pleased with herself. Natasha was cautious, and approached him. Loki had noticed that Shannon was wearing her usual business casual attire, with comfortable walking boots. Natasha was in her full tactical suit, though there were no obvious weapons in sight. Well, other than _her,_ as he was fully aware of her lethal hand to hand skills from what he had learned from Clint Barton.

"Any untoward behavior, and this experiment is halted immediately," Natasha intoned.

"Experiment?"

"There's a rooftop garden. It took time to secure the access stairs," Shannon said. Her smile would have been infectious if not for the agent's glower of warning. "You've done really well, and it's time to expand."

"Expand," he echoed, feeling downright stupid. It was unsettling, and made him wonder if mortals felt like this all the time. If so, no wonder they were so wild and willful. He would do just about anything to stop feeling this way, and he at least had _some_ restraint.

"We could rehash the same material over and over, and ultimately, it's no better than letting you hide in that cell. A change of scenery might be just the thing to jump start your thoughts." At his dubious expression, she shrugged. Her smile didn't slip in the slightest. "It's not Asgard, but it's also not industrial beige and gray."

"I will have to agree with you on that," Loki sighed.

He walked between Shannon's lead and Natasha behind him, no doubt glaring at his skull the entire time. It was even more unsettling, an itch along his spine, right between his shoulder blades. Would she slip a blade between them? She seemed the type to have hidden blades everywhere, just as he used to. There was nothing quite like being underestimated to help give him an advantage.

Amazingly enough, there was no lie to Shannon's words. It was a short hallway to a stairwell, and Loki could feel the magic inscribed in the walls. The stairwell was similarly warded, and then there was the climb to the roof. He felt numb, because of course it had to be Frigga that had done this preparation work. She could have refused. She could have let him rot and fester in the dark, closed off cell.

Loki had lost track of time in the cell, with no perceptible day or night. There had been weekly sessions to mark the passage of time, but it still didn't quite register until he could see over the rooftop to the trees around them. Most had lost their leaves, and the air had taken on a bit of a bite. It didn't bother him, being a frost giant, not as it clearly bothered Shannon, as she shivered a bit without a jacket, but she still looked excited.

"It's been a long time," he murmured, looking out beyond the parking lot of the building. Some of the treetop branches looked like fingers reaching up to the gray sky, and an odd melancholy seeped into him.

The rooftop was filled with gravel, but there were garden boxes set up in the center as she had promised. The flowers were obviously fake, there was no way to have brightly colored blooms this late in the year, but they were excellent fakes just the same. Vivid reds, oranges and yellows sprouted amongst the green foliage, clusters of roses, lilies, daisies and lilacs. Two chairs had also been set up next to what appeared to be a low table. Shannon gestured to it, and he gingerly sat down in the one he had been offered. Loki kept his jaw clenched, feeling almost as if he was on display.

"We'll have to come up with something different as winter really hits, but this is at least a start. We can do our session here today, and you get two hours a day otherwise on the roof."

He blinked at her in surprise. "A rooftop."

"The best we could do at the moment. If this works, we can make other arrangements."

Loki's gut twisted, and he found himself gripping one of the golden cuffs tightly. "This is her work," he whispered. "I thought she'd left."

"The Queen was actually very eager to help with this project. She and Thor have been brainstorming the Convergence issue."

"They never left."

Shannon looked at him with an odd expression. "Well, no. There's still work to be done."

"I wasn't exactly civil."

"There are too many complicated emotions."

"You're being oddly nice to me," Loki said, bitterness and sarcasm lacing his voice.

She laughed, shaking her head a little. "No, Loki. This is you making progress. This is you realizing that there is a place in the world for you after all, if you choose it." He went very still at her words. "You did help them realize what was going on, even with the commentary. And this entire situation is forcing them to rethink their perspective on the past."

Loki's mouth was dry. "Is that... You call it progress."

"For everyone involved."

"How so?" Loki asked, feeling the wind begin to pick up. Shannon crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her arms a little, clearly cold and not defensive. "You should have brought a jacket with you."

"And spoil your surprise?" she huffed. "I can deal with a little cold if you can."

"I'm a _frost giant."_

"Uh huh," she replied, not impressed. "One that still gets goose bumps with the chill," she said, nodding at the strip of exposed skin above his cuffs.

"It doesn't bother me as it does you."

"An hour out here isn't going to hurt me," she said with a shrug. Her eyes danced as she smiled at him. "Come on, Loki. You're _outside."_

The view wasn't much, but she had a point. He could breathe in fresh air and see the light for himself, not stale recycled nonsense and an unceasing bulb over his head. "Thank you."

She beamed as if he had given her high praise, which made him feel a little more foolish and ungrateful for the effort she had put in. He thought perhaps he should say something more, but then she began talking as if it truly was an ordinary session in his cell below. Loki blinked at her, knowing full well the wind wasn't strong enough to dull his hearing. At first he stuttered a bit, managing not to wince when he remembered that Natasha Romanoff was standing behind him, watching his every move. But Shannon had that encouraging expression on her face, and he found himself telling her about winter on Asgard, how terribly frigid it had been during Thor's ill fated jaunt to Jotunheim, and how awful and helpless he had felt when Thor and his friends had simply ignored his cautionary words.

It didn't matter that he could feel Natasha's eyes on his back like an itch down his spine when they eventually went back inside to his cell. Loki was almost surprised at himself for not trying to plan a grand escape, and willingly walking back behind the glass divider. There was pride in Shannon's expression as much as there was caution in Natasha's. His therapist was _proud_ of him, a warm feeling in his chest, and her eyes crinkled as if she was grinning and bouncing on her toes even if there was only the faintest of smiles on her face.

"She knows any number of spells," Loki blurted as the two women were about to leave. "She can make it warmer for you, provide a sanctuary of sorts so you don't freeze in winter."

"Do you have a particular one you can think of?" Shannon asked him.

"You wouldn't know of it if I mentioned it by name," Loki began slowly, cautiously. Not to hurt Shannon or belittle her, but because he was thinking. "Tell her to think on the balcony gardens in the northernmost spires of the castles of Asgard. Something like that."

"I'll tell her, Loki. Thank you."

Thank you. As if this wasn't something that would ultimately benefit him, as if it wasn't a minor concession that he should have begged for.

Loki's mind stopped as the two women stepped through the door, however. It occurred to him that he hadn't begged, not once. He hadn't been angry or resentful, hadn't raged at the injustice of being locked away again. He had quietly allowed the glass partition to seal him back inside the cage, and sat down on the bed given to him. Lying down, he folded his hands beneath his head and stared up at the ceiling, idly wondering what he would have done if his mad plan had actually worked and Midgard was his.

He couldn't think of anything.

But then, he hadn't been certain it would work, anyway. It was the planning that had mattered, the machinations and dodging expectations, outwitting others and knowing that he held secrets no others could guess. Even now, there were some secrets he still held close that even Shannon didn't know.

That bit of truth didn't please him as much as it used to. It felt like hiding in plain sight, not being important. He wanted to be seen and known, and it always was to be on his terms. Now, Loki felt like those old terms had changed on him, twisting into something different and unrecognizable. He couldn't even imagine the joy he once felt at the thought of lording it over Thor that he controlled Midgard, that he was more important to billions than Thor would ever be.

Why did it always feel as though the rules were different for Thor? Loki had only been trying to be everything he had been raised to be. Obviously that wasn't good enough because he was a frost giant, but he hadn't known that. Thor hadn't known that. They were lied to so thoroughly and for so long...

Sitting up abruptly in bed, Loki found the notebook he had been keeping some of his thoughts in and immediately began to write down his long and tangled thought process. It was time to bring it up with Shannon, to hear her take on it. Loki had the feeling it was exactly what she had been getting at, and what she was trying to get him to realize for so long.

She would be proud of him, he knew. He was making _progress._

Maybe someday he would be able to be proud of himself as well.

***

"He liked the garden, then?" Frigga asked, sitting primly in the SHIELD cafeteria drinking tea from a Styrofoam cup. Shannon tried not to feel utterly discombobulated by the incongruity of the sight, and nodded. "I'm glad."

"It's getting cold, and it'll only get colder as the months go on. Are there spells to use on the area? We don't have good alternatives yet, and I'd hate to have him lose this progress just because it's almost December."

"Your director didn't think creating a portal to a pocket dimension was a good idea," Frigga said mildly before taking another sip of tea.

Shannon managed to suppress a shudder. Being locked away in a pocket dimension that no one else had a key for? Oh, she could very well understand why Director Fury wouldn't go for an idea like that. It was bad enough there weren't the same level of monitoring equipment on the roof; having Natasha present and a listening device was the best compromise that Shannon had been able to make.

"Loki had mentioned the balcony gardens on the north spires of the palace," Shannon said.

Frigga paused, and after a moment put down the Styrofoam cup. "He remembers."

"I don't understand."

"One of our first lessons had been in my private garden. It has several very complicated containment spells, and a number of them fix the weather conditions."

"That must be what he meant, then," Shannon said with an encouraging smile. There had to be more to it; she wouldn't have frozen otherwise. "It must be pretty, then."

"I have quite a collection of rare and beautiful flowering plants," Frigga told her with a faint smile, cupping the tea in both hands as an ordinary mortal would. She looked down, golden teardrop earrings bobbing with the movement when her curls remained impeccably in place. "He was fascinated by their origins."

"A botanical garden, then."

"I suppose." Frigga paused, then looked up. "He trusts you."

Shannon blinked at her. "Because he told me about the garden?"

"It's not a pleasant memory for him. And he so rarely shares unpleasant sides of himself."

"That's a calculated move," Shannon disagreed, shaking her head. "I obviously don't know what it means."

"But I do, and I could tell you about it if you asked me. So he trusts you enough to even take the risk of exposure."

Tempting, then. But she smiled at Frigga gently. "If it's a memory he wants to share with me, then I will wait for him to tell me the story. But I can ask for your version afterward, if that's all right. I can make it all line up in my head, then. Like when I spoke with Thor about what happened before New York."

Frigga didn't hide her wince. "Not our finest hour."

"Everyone has them now and again."

The queen chuckled, then picked up the Styrofoam cup. "I suppose that's true, no matter what realm you reside in."

Shannon leaned in with an eager expression. "Can you tell me what Asgard is like?"

"To see if the stories match up, as you said."

"Sort of. I've read up on some mythology, but it's translated and several thousand years later. So whatever is written in the Norse eddas won't actually be what Asgard is like. I really like learning about different cultures and languages, so it would be neat to hear about it from someone that lived there."

"You discussed some things with Thor and Loki," she began, sounding almost uncertain.

Making a derisive sound, Shannon shook her head. "Loki's POV is a little skewed, I think we can all agree on that. And I asked Thor only specific questions for my timeline of events, not things about the culture, exactly. That's what I'm getting at. Where the parks are, what the food is like, what kind of music and parties and holidays, that kind of thing."

Frigga's expression softened. "Ah. Those are easy questions to answer."

The next hour passed in amicable discussion, and the balcony garden wasn't brought up again. Still, Shannon knew it was in the back of Frigga's mind. Authorization paperwork came down from Fury's office two days later about modifications to the rooftop to allow spell work to be completed in time for the next session.

Tucking it away in the folder she reserved for her notes on Loki's progress, Shannon smiled and then got ready for Clint's session. At least she was a trainee and had ample time for paperwork and notes and timelines. If she had patients back to back constantly throughout the day as it would be expected of her, she wouldn't be able to do as much background research and collateral information gathering as she was doing.

Clint arrived on time, an extra large coffee in one hand and his marble notebook in the other. His steps weren't as hesitant as it had been when he had come between sessions to retrieve it, and he sat down in the chair easily. Taking a sip of the coffee, he looked tempted to put his feet up on the desk and relax. "I've made a breakthrough, doc."

Shannon shot him a wry smile. "Really? Do tell."

He chuckled and shook his head. "We've been focusing on the fact that there is actually a balance to the work I've been doing. The dancing, you said. Not talking about the death I couldn't stop because it was all I was able to think about anyway."

"Right," she said, nodding when he paused.

"So after last session, I took a walk down in the City," he began, actually sounding eager to tell her about it. "It's not like anyone really recognizes me down there, you know? Just another guy poking around Midtown, taking a look at the reconstruction and shit. I was in a coffee shop down there, the plain looking ones next to all the fancy shops outside of Grand Central."

"Okay," Shannon said encouragingly, still nodding even though she had no idea which shop he was talking about.

"There was a waitress there, talking to some customer about how the Avengers kept the damage to a minimum in the area. She'd been there, Captain America saved her life _twice,_ and she saw explosions in the sky that took down the Chitauri sleds. She saw my arrows, didn't know what they were, and said she knew that the debris coming down was bad, but it would've been so much worse if they'd been able to shoot up the buildings or bring them down."

She couldn't help but return his excited smile. "That made it real for you, hearing someone talking about it without being prompted, without knowing you were there."

"Well, yeah. Because I know you wouldn't bullshit me about that, and the senior agents wouldn't, but it's different somehow. They're outside the agency. They're _real_ and they see it." It was definitely relief in Clint's eyes. "If it's that obvious to a civilian, it has to be true, right? That isn't something redacted or covered up, nothing added after the fact to make someone feel better about a mission ops going sideways."

"So it took someone else saying that for you to see it."

Clint had the grace to look at her abashed. "Um..."

"As long as you see it, that's the important thing. The seed was planted, and it doesn't matter what makes it click as long as it does." Shannon crossed her arms on the edge of her desk and leaned forward a bit. "So this changes how you see your role in the Battle of New York. What about events prior to that?"

He frowned at her. "You mean when I was possessed. When Loki got in my head."

"Yes. And even the missions you ran for SHIELD."

He didn't glower at her, exactly, but it was probably close. "You keep coming back to that."

"Because you keep avoiding it."

Clint sighed at that and lost his relaxed pose. "Well, I guess I haven't wanted to think about it. I mean, the amended notes were nice to see. It was exciting at first, I guess. And we talked about the corrections I made to my notebook. But then I had time to think..."

"Oh, Clint," Shannon clucked in disappointment.

The chuckle he made was self deprecating. "That obvious?"

"You know that saying, this is why we can't have nice things?"

Clint laughed out loud, and Shannon laughed along with him. "You do realize that Tasha says I'm a walking disaster, right?"

"I wasn't aware of that, but I can't say that I'm surprised."

That didn't offend him in the slightest. "Yeah, she's like that, isn't she?"

"And you surround yourself with strong people. Not necessarily physically strong, I don't mean that, but emotionally strong. People that are dependable and maybe a little scary sometimes."

"Definitely Natasha."

"I noticed it with the other files, though. With how you've talked about – or not talked about – people that you've grown up with."

"What do you mean?"

"Seems like you're drawn to strong personalities. Those that don't bend or break easily."

Clint definitely looked uncomfortable, and shifted in his seat. "And?"

"I wonder if it's to prop you up? That you're afraid _you're_ not as emotionally strong as they are? And they'll help you stay that way? Like those poles they tie to saplings to keep them growing straight, rather than bending with the wind."

That clarification seemed to ease some of his discomfort a bit, but he still chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought over her words, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. It makes sense."

"You're not convinced."

"This is not something that anyone's ever said before."

"If they did, you probably wouldn't have listened."

This time, he grimaced. "They were assholes. Trying to tell me what to do."

"And I'm not?"

"No, you're not an asshole," Clint said, giving her a cheeky grin that transformed his features.

"I still tell you what to do."

"It doesn't sound... wrong, somehow."

"It's not some kind of directive you're forced to obey." Clint nodded, and Shannon picked up one of her arms to rest her chin in her hand, elbow perched on her desk. "You don't think of me as an authority figure, exactly. Not one where there are serious consequences for not obeying commands. But if there was... That authority would carry weight. It would matter. There would be consequences. So either you follow directions implicitly, or you buck it and tell them to go to hell. You get a chance to say it to all the authority figures that piss you off except the one that really should've heard it."

"That got real serious real quick," Clint said finally, expression tight. "I was actually happy before I walked in here."

"I suppose that means I'm not wrong."

He remained silent for a few minutes, and Shannon willed herself to stay very still and not break eye contact. Clint was good at sitting still, too, he had to be as a sniper, but the silence only made him more agitated with time.

"I can't take the quiet anymore," he said abruptly. "There has to be white noise. Even a humming sound or static."

"What happened in the silence?"

"There should be a voice there," he said, syllables clipped and expression unhappy. "It should be telling me what to do. Or that I'm a no good piece of shit trailer trash that'll just end up a drunk on welfare like my old man was, never mind he wasn't actually on welfare. He worked at a junk yard, which is probably worse."

"Tools. Weapons," Shannon guessed.

"It meant he was strong and I had to be fast and attack at a distance. It meant I couldn't miss. It meant I had no options."

"That's the real fallout of the possession, isn't it?" Shannon asked gently, letting her hand fall to the desk. She folded her hands and had a softer expression on her face. "Because you were told what to do, just like back then. And now it's all come back, everything you wish you'd forgotten and thought you moved past."

"I can't get it out of my head," Clint said, voice tight. "I hate him for that. And you're working with him."

"Normally, you wouldn't know who my other clients are. But this isn't exactly a normal situation, even for forensics." She paused and tilted her head to the side. "Is that making it difficult for you to really engage with me?"

"I keep thinking I should be hearing something in the back of my head," he said instead, every syllable as sharp as his arrows. "I keep thinking my eyes should be blue. But they're not, and I'm the only one inside my head, and I hate that I want something else there."

"But you don't really." He stared at her incredulously. "If you did, you wouldn't be here being all miserable. You'd have fallen into line and been a good little soldier so you can get back in the field to follow orders. Instead, you're actually trying to participate. Trying to think and get back your sense of self."

"No, I'm not, aren't you listening?"

"I'm also hearing what you don't say."

Clint froze for a moment, then his body relaxed and he shook his head. "This is why Nat says I'm such a shit spy."

Shannon chuckled. "I think you can do a good job of it if that's what you wanted."

"I don't," he said firmly, lips compressing into a thin line. "Maybe once, I thought it was a good idea, but not anymore. I'm not..." He paused and licked his lips, eyes distant. "I don't think I can do that anymore. And maybe this just pointed it out to me."

"Because you did things you didn't think you were capable of?"

"I think deep down I knew it was possible," he admitted slowly, voice thick and eyes still distant. Shannon thought perhaps he was thinking of the abusive father he had mentioned, the problems he alluded to. "I didn't want to know it was in me, too. That I could be like that, where people don't matter and are inconveniences."

"If it bothers you, you _aren't_ like that." Clint looked at her sharply, lips parting as if about to speak, and Shannon held up a hand to stop him. "It took an external source to make you behave that way, and stripped of that influence, you stopped. You _stopped._ You worked to help people in the city unable to help themselves, and you carry guilt about it. That's not how someone would behave if they truly thought others' lives don't matter."

Clint rubbed his faced tiredly and blew out a breath. "Yeah. Maybe. But I can't shake it."

"So what can you use as the takeaway message?"

"Huh?"

"Look at it this way: it's hanging on in your conscious thoughts because there's something you need to learn from it."

"That I can be a dick like my old man?"

Shannon rolled her eyes. "I don't think it takes brainwashing to know we're all capable of that."

He tightened his jaw for a moment. "Then what do you think I need to learn from it? Other than I've killed good men and women I worked with? That I found mercs SHIELD was trying to take down and gave them the keys to the kingdom? That I let that psychotic fucker into my head and let him play with my mind, take out bits that didn't apply and yank on strings to make me into someone else?"

Her gaze sharpened and she pointed at him. "There are two parts to that. That you think you _let_ him do anything to you. And that on some level, you know that you were made into someone else. Which means you also know that _this wasn't you._ You take on guilt like it's another skin, like you should wrap yourself up in it and wallow in misery because it's all you're good for. But you can't make someone stop being who they really are unless you change the fundamental underpinnings, and it took magic to do that to you. You had to be completely overwritten to behave that way. And honestly, do you think you could've stopped Loki? You against magic? When we don't even know how it works? And even Asgardians can't always protect themselves against it?"

Clint shivered. "I have nightmares where I can. And it's still me choosing to do that."

"It's a nightmare."

"It means something!"

"That it's not who you are!" she returned with feeling. It was close, that true breakthrough he had been talking about, the feelings and thoughts swirling about in his head but not really connecting with his emotions. "It wouldn't freak you out if that was who you are. It wouldn't be a nightmare if you enjoyed it!"

"But I was good at it," he whispered. "I was too good."

"Your mind and soul were taken from you against your will," she said quietly, hand falling to the desk. "You couldn't stop it, and you didn't invite it. There were no ways you could have avoided it, and there were no skills you had that could have prevented it from happening."

Clint shuddered, mouth opening and closing for a moment, no sound coming out.

"You didn't ask for this. You didn't make it happen. You didn't _let_ it happen. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing." Shannon leaned in closer, sliding her hands across her desk toward him, fingers splayed wide. "That entire episode was terrible. Your agency was taken from you. There was no choice, no choosing."

"He didn't tell me to kill them," Clint whispered, voice cracking. "I did choose that."

Shannon shook her head. "That was never your choice."

"I did it," he whispered.

"What you do under duress is not the same as the choices you make when you actually have a choice. Following a command without thought is not a real choice."

"I'm not supposed to be helpless," Clint whispered, shaking his head. "I can't. I can't do that. I have to do what needs to be done. I have to take the shot. I have to win. I can't fail."

"This was not failure."

"I couldn't shake him off. I couldn't get him out. I couldn't—"

"There was no way you could have. And that's not your fault."

Clint took in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly, not meeting her gaze. "I know what this sounds like to you."

"Oh? What does it sound like?"

"Excuses, right? That I should stop thinking in absolutes? That I should stop acting like everything is okay?"

"You're not okay, Clint," Shannon said gently. "You've gone through a trauma I've never experienced. I can't even begin to understand how you feel right now. But I do see you're in a vulnerable place, and it's easier to blame yourself for what you couldn't help than to see yourself that way."

Now he looked at her, uncertain. "What do you mean?"

"If you blame yourself, you have some sense of control. There's something you can change. There's a place to direct your anger, even if it's at yourself. Because then you can try to use it, even if you feel stuck. There's something you can _do_ and things you can somehow _change,_ and maybe that twisted knot of emotions will have some kind of meaning." Her voice softened considerably, seeing how fragile he seemed at the moment. "Because if it doesn't have meaning, it happened for no reason. Otherwise, it's terrifying."

"I need to go," Clint blurted.

Shannon stood abruptly as he did, side stepping her desk. She didn't block the door exactly, but he stopped as if she had. "A horrible wrong was done to you, Clint. A lot of horrible wrongs, actually. Sometimes bad things happen for no reason at all, but it doesn't mean that you're bad or had invited it in some way. That you take that pain and turn it into something better is a strength that most people don't have. It's a bravery, to use that to help others. Don't belittle that part of yourself to make the pain bigger."

"I can't. I can't talk about this."

She nodded but didn't otherwise move. "And we can dance around it more if you need to. It's not going to change how I think of you."

"The ex-carnie sharpshooter that's fucked up once too many times?" he asked bitterly.

"The Avenger," she said simply, a sad smile on her face. 

He had no reply to that, and she didn't stop him when he left, clutching his notebook as if it was a lifeline and he was drowning.

***  
***


	12. Feeling Like Drowning

The rooftop garden was warm despite the weak sunlight filtering through the cloud cover and the impending threat of rain. Loki sat down gingerly on one chair as Shannon sat across from him. Natasha was behind him, no doubt watching and listening intently. Still, he found he could almost tune her out entirely, as he had all the cameras in the cell. "I'm assuming the spells remind you of the garden," Shannon began, a pleasant expression on her face.

Her makeup was pale and almost shimmery, he noticed. More like spring colors than late fall, and he wondered why he even cared about that detail. "I suppose."

"Queen Frigga mentioned there was a bad memory tied to that garden." Loki sat very still and looked at her intently. "When you're ready, you can tell me about it."

"She could tell you."

Shannon clucked her tongue at him. "It's your story, not hers, right? So I'll wait for you."

Loki let out a breath he hadn't realized he held. "Ah. My thanks."

"We have enough to discuss, yes?"

"What do you mean? I have nothing to offer on the Convergence problem."

She made a negligent waving motion. "They're working on that. Not our issue."

He frowned at her deeply. "Then what is?"

"What made you settle on conquest?"

"That's an abrupt turn of topic."

"Not particularly. We've been dancing toward it for some time, haven't we? The discontent and identity problems, not feeling sure of where you truly belonged. Not feeling good enough. The attack on Earth was supposed to show you were as worthy a conqueror. That you can rule as well as if not better than those on Asgard."

Loki shifted in his seat uneasily. "I suppose."

"How did you decide on conquering another realm? Why Earth? I can't imagine you had any particular love of Midgard."

"That's exactly why Midgard," he replied icily.

"You mentioned a few other realms tied to Yggdrasil," Shannon continued. "Some of which are already destroyed, so yeah, I can see why you wouldn't want those. But there were realms easier to conquer, surely?"

"You have no idea the inane concept that is," he said.

"Nope," she replied, not fazed in the slightest by her tone. "That's why I'm asking."

"Asgard was the pinnacle of all realms."

"So no poaching on their worlds?"

"Thor likes to think of Midgard as under his protection," Loki said, lip curling in disdain.

"That must've made this a fantastic target then," Shannon said, leaning forward a bit, elbows on her knees. "If you could succeed where he failed..."

"He didn't fail exactly," Loki frowned.

"No? There were incidents in New Mexico. Heavily classified, but of course things leak out on the internet and whatever news reports got filtered down from there. And then of course, when you brought the Chitauri here to New York. He didn't stop you from doing it."

Loki shifted in his seat and his eyes slid past Shannon to something over the roof's edge. "He didn't know."

"It's not like you would broadcast what you were doing."

He frowned at her. "Are you being obtuse on purpose?"

"Are you being confrontational on purpose?"

Shannon shrugged and then leaned back in her chair. "See, there are things you say. Things you don't say. And somewhere in between are all the things that are actually true." She touched her chin in a thoughtful expression as she looked at him. "There are things out there, you said. That worship death. That want to do nothing but kill, and would have decimated this world." Loki was very still, and merely stared at her in silence. "Did you pick Midgard _because_ it was under his protection? That he would come, he would see what was going on, and maybe scare off whoever this killer is?"

Something flickered in his gaze, uneasy and almost like fear. Loki licked his lips and gave her a thin lipped, unhappy smile. "He would never survive such a conflict."

"You don't seem happy about that."

"I suppose I am not."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know," Loki said with a shrug, looking away again. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. Of course it does."

"Not to me."

"Most of all to you."

"Damn you," Loki snarled, lips pulled back and eyes flashing. "Stop contradicting me!"

Shannon swallowed, chin dipped down slightly, but refused to overtly show fear. "Something is out there. Something worse than the Chitauri."

"You have _no idea_ what exists beyond your puny realm," he growled, fingers digging into the arm rest of his chair with so much force his knuckles whitened.

"No, I don't. I haven't even traveled outside of the United States." She shrugged. "We've already established that I don't know about of that. I don't even know what aliens would like aside from Asgardians and Chitauri."

"There are creatures so massive that your entire size is barely even like their little finger. And others so small you would crush them if you stepped down." Each syllable was clipped and precise, and Loki didn't move from his rigid posture. "And yes, there are those that enjoy death. That worship it. That want nothing more than to raze planets to the ground simply to say that they can do it."

"Is that who you met when you fell into the Void?"

"There is nothing in the Void."

"There has to be something. Planets, maybe? Starships going through?"

"It is called the Void because it is beyond the reach of Yggdrasil," he said tightly. "There is nothing there that matters, nothing that can be understood. _Nothing,"_ he hissed out, eyes flashing with anger. Shannon thought perhaps there was a touch of fear as well. "In the deepest, darkest reaches of the Void dwell monsters that would make the bravest among you quake with fear, and none of the brave Einherjar would ever hope to defeat them."

"Are they the ones working with the Convergence, then?" Shannon asked, brows knit in confusion. "Is that why Asgard is suddenly so interested in it?"

"No, you twit!" Loki raged, leaning forward. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and he had an almost crazed expression on his face. Shannon flinched, but hadn't moved. Natasha did, and a knife that Shannon hadn't known was even present was in her hand. She was poised to strike if Loki did anything, likely if he even moved.

"I noticed that you call me names when you feel out of control. When you need to feel important. I'm a convenient target."

He made a growling noise, then pushed himself backward into his chair. His breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he stared at her, irritated. "Why don't you fight back?" His jaw tightened. "I say something, and you just sit there and take it."

"I'm your therapist, Loki," she reminded him.

If anything, that comment made him seem even more discomfited. "You don't _want_ anything from me."

"Not entirely true."

He waved his hand dismissively. "It's not the same. Everyone wants something. There is no altruism. They're not good simply for the sake of it. It's for appearances, because they want to look good, they want others to think well of them." There was an almost forlorn note to his voice, but that didn't make Natasha stand down from her position to strike if necessary.

"Was that it, then?" Shannon asked, tilting her head to the side. "Those creatures that want to kill, you give them Earth, and they spare Asgard?"

Now it was Loki's turn to flinch. "That's not the way it was."

"You were supposed to rule Earth?"

"What was left of it." He grimaced. "Assuming the bargain was even kept."

Loki's voice was dull, breath heaved out of his slumped torso. Shannon frowned at him. "Is that all you thought you deserved? Or was this a roundabout way of getting caught so that the truly bad ones would be stopped?"

"I am not _good,"_ he grumbled. "Do not paint me so."

"We've already established you're not _good,"_ she said, air quoting the words with her fingers and giving him an exasperated look. "That you're a trickster figure is also not open to debate. So I'm trying to figure out what the purpose was for Earth. Because there have to be easier realms to conquer. The one under Asgard's protection, you said. Valaheim, right?"

"Vanaheim," Loki corrected stiffly.

"Vanaheim," Shannon said with a nod of acknowledgement. "If they're under protection, it must mean that they don't really have an army of their own, right?"

"They are not warriors. The Vanir are farmers, laborers, creative folk. It's a culture of learning, not of fighting. "

"That would've been so easy to take over, then!" She gestured toward him with both hands. "In an interplanetary game of Risk, that's easy pickings."

"The risk in conquering the Vanir was to ignite the wrath of Asgard and the Einherjar. The Warriors Three frequented the realm because it's Hogun's homeworld."

"Meanwhile, Thor was doing a crap job on Earth, right?"

Loki curled his lip in derision. "He hasn't the patience or temperance for rule."

"But do you?"

He glowered at her. "In comparison to that blundering fool? Of course I am. Rule doesn't involve beating everything into submission with a hammer. But it doesn't matter. He was lied to, just as I was, and it would have continued indefinitely had it not been exposed so obviously."

"Your origins, you mean?"

"It doesn't matter now," Loki said heavily. "Once plans are in play, they cannot be undone. I am caught," he said, giving her a thin smile and raising his wrists to show off the golden cuffs. "Rule is not in my future any longer."

"So wait, I'm confused," Shannon said, frowning at him. "Vanaheim would've been a much easier target for you if Asgard wasn't a consideration. This murdering madman out in space has a lot more resources and opportunity, it sounds like. So why not point them at Vanaheim? Asgard is a whole realm away, and there isn't a standing army. _Maybe_ you have a few warriors there hanging out at home, but they'd be easily overrun by an army." She tilted her head at Loki, who was biting his lip enough that it whitened around the edge of his teeth. "Why point out Earth, where there is more possibility of being stopped?"

"It can't be stopped, Shannon," he said after a moment.

"Why not?"

"Some things can never be undone. They can never be changed, never be fixed." There was a tremor in his voice, and he couldn't meet her gaze. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"You are a genuinely nice person, are you not?"

"I suppose I am. I'm trying to help people live their lives better, even if they're in prison."

Loki gave her a thin smile and finally met her eyes. His grip on the arm rests remained white knuckled. "My actions brought your world to the attention of a madman, and sooner or later, it will be destroyed. You along with it. For that, I am sorry."

He remained silent for the rest of the hour, despite her attempts to engage him. Loki didn't comment on Natasha's wary posture, or the knife that she didn't bother to hide. He let himself be led back to his cell when time was up.

***

"What do you think he meant?" Natasha asked as soon as the outer door to the cell was shut. Shannon supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that she would dive for that head first, before she even had a chance to process her thoughts.

"My head hurts," she temporized, massaging her temples.

"It'll hurt more if this soulless killer comes," Natasha said flatly. Right. Assassin and spy. She was capable of friendship and had a scathing sense of humor if she wasn't on the job. Right now, she was all about the job, and Shannon wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and forget what Loki had said.

Which was impossible, really. Wishful thinking at best, utter idiocy at worst.

"Okay, okay," Shannon muttered. "Let's go to my office."

Natasha frowned at her. "Why?"

"It's comfortable. And I have notes there. Even if I don't need them, I still want to have the access just in case."

"A security blanket," Natasha said, voice without inflection. Was that disapproval?

Shannon tried not to feel sick as she nodded. There weren't any other words until they were in her office, door closed and locked, Shannon seated heavily in her chair and Natasha perched at the edge of her desk and going through her folder full of process notes. This was highly unusual as far as supervision went, but what _wasn't_ unusual about this whole damn situation?

"I'm not interested in what you _know,"_ Natasha began, voice firm and expression carefully and frighteningly blank. "I want what you think and what you _believe._ You and I have the best understanding of how his mind works, and what he would mean. We both know that no theory is too outlandish at this point."

 _"Trời ơi, đụ má,"_ Shannon hissed, rubbing at her face. It was a supreme insult among Vietnamese; you didn't go around dropping an F bomb unless you were looking for a fight. She would never be able to hold her own, but the entire situation made her feel wrung out.

"Shannon," Natasha said, a warning note to her voice. Her expression still hadn't changed.

"Barton tells you things, doesn't he? About what he said in therapy? Because I can't violate his confidentiality without his express consent and there are things he said that does dovetail with this, and what the fuck?!" she cried, seeing Natasha whip out a cell phone from a pocket she hadn't noticed before.

"Yes, he tells me things. But you want his express permission, then we'll get it."

Shannon sat in silence as the phone rang, and finally a sleepy Barton picked up the phone. "What?" he growled, still sounding groggy.

"I'm doing supervision on a certain supervillain, and I need your consent to discuss aspects of your therapy that you might not have discussed with me yourself."

"Aw, Tash, no. Don't wake me up with serious bullshit," Clint growled.

"I need your consent, Clint."

He made an incoherent noise, and Shannon flicked her gaze up at Natasha from the phone. "T-that's not a yes or no," she said, not knowing why her adrenaline was spiking.

No, she knew why. Clint wouldn't say no to Natasha. He trusted her and her opinion, and if Natasha said she needed information, she wouldn't lie about that.

"Dr. Tran, you're there, aren't you?" Clint asked. "She's got you on speaker, that's why it all sounds weird and distant." He sighed heavily. "Talk about whatever you need to. I'm sure she knows it all anyway, and can guess the things that she doesn't."

"Thank you," Natasha said, voice soft and intimate. "I'll tell you everything later."

Clint made a grumbling noise, and hung up. Natasha hit "end" on her phone and then put it away in her pocket, eyes boring into Shannon's.

She gulped, her gut twisting into knots. "It has to do with mind control. The part I have to say about Clint. Not about anything else, and I won't divulge anything else."

Natasha waved her hand negligently. "I'll tell him everything later anyway. I'm not here to hurt him in any way."

Shannon took a deep breath and tried not to feel nervous. "Loki and I have danced around the whole falling into the Void and dealing with the Other and Chitauri. Asides and things. But from the things he mentioned, the picture that _I_ got is that he wasn't entirely in control of the situation from the start. And Clint mentioned once or twice that Loki seemed to go into trances, his lips moving, and then jerking violently and looking almost sick afterward. He didn't know what happened, and it wasn't something he would even think about questioning while he was under mind control." Shannon grimaced and shook her head. "The whole mind control thing itself is a whole other tangled mess to get into.

"Both confirmed that it was superseding will. It wasn't necessarily changing what people knew, but it was using it without compunction. Loki was being used as much as he was using the Chitauri. It doesn't have anything to do with the Convergence like Thor and Queen Frigga are studying," she added with a wave of her hand. "That didn't figure into any of the things that Loki talked about. It was the conquest itself, and it was only partly Loki's idea. He offered up Earth to this figure, but there was supposed to be devastation _somewhere._ And it was outside of Yggdrasil, meaning the Asgardians wouldn't have known anything about it until it was too late for them to save themselves."

Natasha frowned at her. "You think there was a measure of mind control on Loki."

"He won't endanger Asgard. It's his home, no matter what garbage he says about himself. It's part of him, and he's part of it. Deep down in that conflicted, tangled mass of self, he truly sees himself as an Asgardian. So he won't directly endanger Asgard. Vanaheim is practically a sister realm to Asgard, so that's out. There's nothing worth killing on half of the other worlds tied to Yggdrasil, so that leaves us." She smiled thinly at Natasha. "And that it's a world that Thor vows to protect, that's a bonus."

"But not his original aim."

"Loki wasn't even entirely sure he wasn't going to be double crossed. The staff he carried wasn't originally his, did you know that?" Natasha nodded impatiently. "It wasn't the Other's, either, and was part of what helped Loki do the whole mind control thing. That's not normally part of his skill set. He's described it before," Natasha nodded again, less impatiently this time, "and it's all sleight of hand, illusions, pocket dimensions, that kind of thing. It was never the overt superposition of his will on someone else. That was never something he was able to do in any of his training. And in talking to Frigga about Asgardian culture, it's not something _any_ of their magicians are able to do with any kind of efficiency."

She blinked slowly at Shannon. "What the hell is that staff?"

"Something way the hell more powerful than Loki should've been carting around. Probably just as powerful as the Casket of Ancient Winters or the Tesseract."

"Both of which are back in Asgardian vaults."

Shannon shook her head. "I wouldn't put them all together in the same place, that's just stupid. Because that staff belongs to whoever was controlling Loki, and he's powerful enough to leave him scared shitless."

Natasha drummed her fingers on the desk as she thought. "It's in SHIELD hands right now," she murmured, gaze distant. "I'm sure they'll study it."

"I think that's a fucking mistake."

Natasha's gaze was sharp as she took in Shannon's drawn expression. "Why?"

"It gave Loki powers he shouldn't have had. It helped superimpose his wishes onto someone else. It fundamentally is not something he could actively control."

"Did he say that?" Natasha said with a frown.

"No, but I'm _sure_ of it. That staff is not his, and it's something he was able to use but not fully control because he didn't actually understand how it worked."

Natasha blinked slowly. "Then how could he use it?"

"Do you know how a combustion engine works?"

"Of course," Natasha replied, affronted.

Now it was Shannon's turn to blink. "Oh. Well, I don't. But I still know how to drive a car. I'm useless when it comes to the workings under the hood, but the dials and gauges make sense to me. It's like that for Loki. He doesn't know the underpinnings of the staff or its use, but it can amplify his thoughts. The Tesseract warps space, creating wormholes for travel. This staff of his warps _minds."_

Both women sat there in silence for a moment. "When were you going to say anything about that?" Natasha asked quietly.

"I wasn't sure. But if you want my thought process, there it is."

"You didn't write that down."

"Because I'm not fucking suicidal."

"What do you mean?"

"This thing can literally change minds if I'm right. Not Loki, this _thing._ And let's face it, I don't think _anyone_ should be able to have that kind of ability. Too much can go wrong with it."

Natasha's eyes darkened. "Yes, it can."

"So what does that mean for you? Because you report to Director Fury. He's going to want to know about this, and I'm sure he's going to do something with it."

She pinched the bridge of her nose and bent her head down, obviously thinking. Shannon didn't know what she was thinking about, but the calculations were likely staggering. Clint had said she had a ledger of sorts, and it was very likely that she was going through it mentally.

"This is going to have to be off book."

"I have no idea what that means," Shannon told her honestly.

"I don't think anyone should be able to wield that staff." Natasha grimaced slightly. "I did, briefly. To break the hold on the Tesseract, and because no one else wanted to touch it. But it was frighteningly easy for me to do that, to pick it up and use it like any other tool." She pursed her lips and looked at Shannon, eyes haunted. "I know how it would work, and I don't want anyone else subject to that ever again."

"I'm not going to ask," Shannon said when Natasha seemed to expect her to say something.

"Thank you."

"Well, not about that," Shannon amended, twisting her mouth as if she tasted something sour or foul. "But now what? My job remains the same no matter what happens to the staff. I still have to work with Loki and Clint Barton and everyone else that SHIELD sends to me. I'm not going to be able to help you with whatever you have planned for that staff."

"Have you ever felt curious about it? About how it worked?"

Shannon looked at the dangerous glint in Natasha's eyes and pressed herself back into her chair. Her office didn't feel safe and secure any longer. If anything, she suddenly recalled that it was soundproofed, there were no listening devices in it, and the door was locked.

She felt sick and small, a bug caught beneath an angry child's magnifying glass. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she tried not to throw up. _"Trời ơi,"_ Shannon muttered, shaking her head and hoping she wasn't about to cry. "I should've taken the Riker's Island job."

***  
***


	13. Beautiful Disaster

Gina was cooking dinner when Shannon came home, eyes haunted and expression distant. She dropped her cooking spoon in the pot and shut off the stove, immediately going to Shannon's side in concern. "Holy shit, what happened? Did someone attack you?"

"What the fuck am I doing?" Shannon asked, voice small and fragile. "I shouldn't know this."

Good, it wasn't an assault of some kind, Gina wouldn't have known how to deal with that. It was bad enough when her sister had gone away to college, and she had been miles away and too far for Gina to help. Making soothing noises over the phone probably helped Lila, but it made Gina feel like an ass. The thought of her roommate being in this state and she couldn't help... Gina was a woman of action, and standing aside unable to help in some way put her hackles up.

"Okay, you are taking off your coat and boots," she said firmly, unzipping Shannon's coat when the woman didn't move. "Then you are going to sit your ass down on the couch. And I know you don't drink, but if I need to, I'm putting something with bite in your drink so you stop acting like you're in shock."

"But I am in shock, right?" Now Shannon focused her gaze on Gina, expression troubled. "I think. It's cold out, it could be just cold."

"You don't even have a hat on!"

"I think I had one and took it off in the car."

"And didn't put it on like a dumbass to come home?"

"I didn't remember."

"You don't forget things like that!" Gina cried, wrestling the coat off of Shannon. "We're getting the snow boots off next, chickie."

 _"Aiya,"_ Shannon cried, eyes wide and finally snapping around the room as she took in where she was. "I drove home on autopilot."

"No shit."

"Your stuff on the stove," Shannon said faintly, letting Gina hang up her coat on its hook near the front door.

"It was almost done, there's probably enough heat on the pot to cook the noodles the rest of the way. I was going to make a pesto sauce, but we can nuke a jar of red sauce instead."

Shannon shivered. "I don't know what I'm going to do with work."

"It must've been a doozy," Gina clucked in sympathy.

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"Sit down and tell me about it. And fuck HIPAA, anything that has you wound up like this has got to be bad."

That didn't make Shannon laugh the way that Gina had hoped it would, though that had been a long shot, really. Her eyes swept around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. "Do you think there are listening devices in here? Do you think there are ways to enforce that confidentiality clause they put into every contract? Do you think they track us?" Now she laughed, but it was a high, hysterical sound that set Gina's teeth on edge. "They're a place called SHIELD, and I don't know if I trust them enough with what I know."

"Okay, and on that ominous note," Gina said, grasping Shannon's arm and pulling her toward the couch, snow boots and all, "you're telling me everything _now."_

Shannon gulped. "But what if it's not safe? I thought... I thought I was doing good, you know?"

"Did the interplanetary war criminal say something that got you spooked? I don't care how much security there is, I will go in there and carve him up with a spork if I have to."

That got Shannon's attention. "A spork? The hell?"

"What? I figured it's blunt, and it's not a rip off of the Sheriff of Nottingham using a spoon."

Sighing, Shannon shook her head at Gina's attempt at levity. "It's not what Loki said, exactly. It's what I'm piecing together from what he didn't say. And he apologized for bringing the Earth to the attention of some kind of madman that loves death and destruction, and he's oh so sorry because that means I'll be dead someday and—"

 _"Breathe,"_ Gina commanded, shaking her shoulder.

"He's an ass, he's powerful, he's got more issues than the journals I subscribe to," Shannon said, a visible shiver running through her. "But that staff wasn't his. And he's terrified of whoever is out there that wants to destroy things. And I don't think anyone should have that staff, because it's fucking dangerous, and I don't know if SHIELD brass would care or think that's a plus." She looked up at Gina. "We're supposed to be the good guys. The acronym spells out 'SHIELD,' for god's sake!"

Gina frowned at her. "What are you saying?"

"I don't think Loki was fully in control of that invasion. Which means there's a bigger and badder guy out there, and I can't handle that. And that spear is _dangerous."_

"Where is it now?"

"I'm sure some other science division is testing it but god, that's just _terrifying."_

"You're thinking worst case scenario," Gina offered.

"Yeah? Well, what did Weaver say about those chemicals you found in Chitauri blood? You were looking at gene therapy and targeting cancer cells. She told you it could be weaponized."

Nodding slowly, Gina leaned against the back of the couch, facing Shannon. "Okay. So we have good intentions, but the higher ups with a clearance level we can never dream of don't necessarily have that."

"And a spear that Loki can't control but will allow for mind control is out there. If they know it's not him but the spear that can do it..."

"Wait, wait, wait. Back up. Mind control?"

"Long story, not fun," Shannon said, waving her hand to divert Gina's attention. "But it wasn't his first. He can use it, but that doesn't mean he can fine tune it. If we do... Nobody should have this thing, nobody."

"Well, fuck," Gina said, seeing why Shannon was so upset. She reached out and grasped Shannon's hand, not surprised to find that it was still cold and that Shannon was shivering. "What are you going to do?"

"Natasha wants to steal it out of the science lab."

"And then what?"

"I dunno, break it? Nobody should have that thing!"

"You jailbreak an artifact that our big bad can't even control," Gina said slowly, ensuring she had Shannon's attention. "How do you propose you break it? It might look gold, but it's alien. Do they even have gold?"

"Dammit, I don't know!"

Both women fell silent, full of troubled thoughts. The beep of the oven timer went off, making Shannon jump and look around guiltily. Gina sighed. "Those're the meatballs. C'mon, you and I are going to have dinner, and maybe that'll be enough time for you not feel so upset. Then you can figure out what you can really do."

"Not much of anything," Shannon said miserably as Gina got up.

"But that isn't nothing," Gina pointed out. "And you have other friends you rope into this, whatever this is going to be."

"I can't put you guys in that kind of danger!"

"Henry will absolutely want to help you."

That didn't reassure Shannon. She groaned and turned to bury her face against the edge of the couch. "God, Henry! I can't put him through this. I have to cancel our date tomorrow!"

"Don't! In movies, that's the thing that tips 'em off that something weird is happening. Pattern changes. You still have to go out."

"This is ridiculous. Dinner and a movie can be rescheduled."

"But you can't lie to seasoned spies worth a damn, can you?"

Shannon sighed. "I don't know what to do," she whimpered.

"Sleep on it," Gina offered. "Something better is bound to come to mind."

At least, she hoped it could be.

***

Clint looked at Natasha on his doorstep with a bleary expression. "Oh, fuck, no, whatever it is, just _no,_ and that's that."

Natasha pushed past him and went into his grungy apartment. "When are you going to clean this place? It's a health hazard."

"And no one is going to break in."

"Because they're going to get tetanus just _looking_ at this stuff."

"Hey, leave my mess alone," he sighed, going over to the couch again. "Don't soften me up for the blow, just lay it on me."

"The observations that you made while you were under control," Natasha began slowly. "You didn't mention that kind of detail to me."

Clint winced. "Sorry. It didn't occur to me right away, and then it seemed kind of weird and hazy anyway. I wasn't sure if it was even real. That kind of made it easier to talk about, rather than the agents I killed."

"Stop. It wasn't you."

"My hands, my nightmares," Clint scoffed, shaking his head. "But the therapist still thinks of me as an Avenger, so hey." He shook his hand in the manner of a surfer and affected a stoner's smile and expression. The look slid off his face and his hand dropped as soon he saw Natasha's sour expression. "Sorry."

"This probably breaks her protocol, but whatever. The staff wasn't his, and he normally can't work mind control the way he did. It belonged to someone else, more dangerous than Loki even is, and someone who loves death."

"I need to be drunk for this conversation, don't I?" Clint sighed, shaking his head.

"It's magic and monsters and a whole lot of bullshit we never trained for," she corrected. "But at the same time, I happen to agree with the good doctor. _No one_ should have that staff, and if there's a way to destroy it, we should."

Clint's eyes widened almost comically. "Doesn't SHIELD have it?"

"Yes. And we are also aware of a lot of things we shouldn't that other divisions had developed with the Tesseract after they found it. What do you think they'd develop out of this?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes before leaning over to put his head between his knees to breathe slowly. "I never wanted to doubt my bosses."

"You were supposed to be with the good guys," Natasha said in quiet tones, finally moving to sit down next to him. She rubbed his back in a soothing manner until he could lift his head to look at her. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"But for pointing it out..."

"The only thing worse than stupid is willfully stupid. Who do we trust with this thing?"

Natasha swallowed and appeared uneasy. "I don't. Trust easily. And I've seen the files on everyone involved with the Avengers Initiative, don't forget."

Clint winced. "We're getting the band back together, aren't we?"

"It's a global potential threat, so yes. You'll have to deal with the Legolas jokes."

Sighing, Clint leaned back against his couch. "There's always Bruce. He wasn't so bad afterward. Kinda shy and regretful of the whole helicarrier thing, but hey."

Natasha's lips quirked. "If we need someone strong to smash it..."

"All right. You figure out how to break the mind whammy thing, I'll go call them." He grinned at her startled expression. "Hell yes, I'm taking the easier job. My day has been shit, so I'm going to do the thing with the least amount of mental energy. You can do the thinking for the both of us, and I'll sit there and look pretty."

She laughed and shook her head. "At least your sense of humor's back."

Clint smiled wanly. He would have to see for how long.

***

Natasha strode into the science lab, confidence in her posture and her winsome smile as she handed a file to Gina. "I hear you're the one to go to for research questions."

"I'll do my best," Gina said, taking the folder. She didn't open it yet, and tapped it on her opposing palm and tried not to bite her lip. "I'm sure there has to be some kind of contingency plan in place if I can't?"

That winsome smile was still in place. "Why don't we talk about it if it comes up?"

"Dinner?" Gina asked, a halfhearted note in her voice.

"That's an excellent idea. Why don't I meet you at seven thirty tonight at your place? Think that'll be enough time to peruse the file?"

"I'll make sure it is," Gina promised, blinking in surprise. It was a combination of anticipation and dread curling in her stomach as she watched Natasha leave her lab. What would Shannon say in a time like this?

 _"Aiya,"_ she tried, through her accent was probably way off. She would have to learn some of the more interesting ones.

***

"Henry's an engineer, he would be useful," Gina was wheedling, checking the timer on the meatloaf in the oven. "Because if we can't break it, we probably have to build something to contain the damn thing. Even tossing the Tesseract into the ocean didn't stop SHIELD from finding it, after all."

"No, I don't want to involve anyone else if I can help it," Shannon said, shaking her head and pausing as she set the table. "This is dangerous. You shouldn't even be involved."

"Shut your mouth," Gina chided. "I'm in this if you are. And if you would let me drag in Rose and Raquel..."

"No, no, no, no," Shannon cried, horrified, and nearly dropped the silverware in her hand. "We're not fighters, we're not field agents, we can't—"

"Saved by the bell!" Gina chirped when the doorbell rang. "And this is almost ready to come out to cool in a bit, so we can have a civilized talk over dinner. You _love_ my meatloaf and my green bean casserole, don't lie. Then, when you're not busy having a heart attack or stroke or something, we will all figure out exactly who and what we'll need next."

She bit her lip and hurried to finish setting the table as Gina went to the door. Natasha was definitely coming over, but Clint Barton and an anxious looking gentleman with glasses were total surprises. "Oh. Do we have enough food?" Shannon asked, starting to push plates and settings around on the table. "The dishes won't match."

"Food? Good, I'm starved," Clint declared. He looked around the living room once Gina took his coat and then saw Shannon in the kitchen. "Hey. Yeah, I'm sure this is all kinds of awkward for you. Sorry, not sorry." At Gina's and the other gentleman's looks of confusion, he shrugged. "She's my therapist at SHIELD. I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to know where you live, and all that kind of thing."

"Blurs the professional boundaries," Shannon said faintly.

"Clint is all about blurring professional boundaries," Natasha said with a fond smile in his direction. She took off her own coat and revealed her bright red sweater over clinging black pants and heeled books.

"Oh, I like you," Gina declared with a grin.

Natasha winked at her and then nodded at the man the others didn't know. "This is Bruce Banner. He's a scientist, and is our resident expert on the gamma radiation we used to track down the staff in the first place."

"So we don't need Henry after all," Shannon blurted in relief. Then, horrified with herself, she busied herself with the cabinets for two more plates and place settings.

"Her boyfriend," Gina explained at Bruce's blank look. "Engineer. I had just been saying we might need a box or something to contain this thing if we can't just break it."

"Oh, no, that kind of energy, you definitely don't want to break it," Bruce said immediately, shaking his head. "It's more like a ticking time bomb if you do, and I barely got a chance to really study the thing the way that I would want to. The energy signature that it generated was absolutely phenomenal."

"Lemme put the kibosh on all science talk right now," Gina began, raising a hand to indicate a pause, "as fascinating as that is, because dinner's ready."

"You were serious about dinner!" Bruce cried, looking at Clint with a pleased expression.

"Doc, I never joke about food."

"Then again, most food you eat is pizza," Natasha snarked.

"Food of the gods," Clint replied with a jaunty tone that mirrored her teasing one. That made Shannon blink in surprise, but she covered it up by finishing with the table.

"Right now, we're all just a bunch of friends hanging out and having dinner and we can do the small talk about the weather being nasty or whatever TV shows you watch," Gina said. Her eyes lit up as she looked over Natasha heading over to pick a seat at the table. "We've got milk, iced tea, apple juice..." She pulled a face in response to Shannon rolling her eyes, then stuck her tongue out at her. "Dude, I don't know what they want with dinner! I'd tell you to get a therapist if I didn't know you already were one."

Bruce watched the exchange and sighed as he pulled up a seat next to Clint. "So it isn't just you guys. Everybody at SHIELD is crazy."

"Speak for yourself, buddy," Gina said with a laugh. "She's just a nervous mess because of the whole business going down that we're not talking about yet, and I'm just deliberately not thinking about it _at all_ because I'd rather be in the lab decanting something or running a PCR or some shit, because this is _so far_ out of our league. But hey, if the fate of the world hangs in the balance, I'll let you call me crazy if you need to."

Clint chuckled. "Yep, you get to hang out with us, then. We're definitely the same kind of crazy for this. Dinner smells wonderful. Let's eat."

Dinner was fairly quiet, and the five of them managed to squeeze around the table and any discussion was focused more on the food or the neighborhood. Once it was done, Bruce helped clear the table and offered to wash the dishes as well, which Gina cheerfully agreed to before Shannon could beg off out of politeness. "You do that while I start up a pot of coffee for our talk. I have a feeling we'll be up a bit."

"Make that two pots," Clint suggested with a self deprecating grin. "I can easily drink a whole pot by myself and still go to sleep."

Bruce snorted and shook his head. "Herbal tea for me. I need to keep my blood pressure low."

"She's the tea lady," Gina teased, pointing to Shannon.

"Jasmine, green, ginseng, oolong..."

Bruce actually lit up when she mentioned the ginseng. "I could use a good cup of ginseng, depending on the brand you have."

"The good stuff," Shannon assured him, going to get the golden colored box to show him. She shared his appreciative grin. "It's not the bitter crap they try to sell, and I go all the way to Chinatown to pick it up at Kam Man."

"I love that place!" Clint said, giving her an appraising glance. "Definitely worth the trip."

"Oh my god, it figures you're all tea nerds," Gina muttered affectionately, shaking her head as she began setting up the coffee pot.

"I go for the _sa siu,_ thank you very much," Clint disagreed with a laugh.

Coffee pot done, Gina rubbed her hands together theatrically. "All right, we got it all, let's set it up and then talk out this disaster in the making."

The file that Natasha had delivered earlier that day had involved whatever files she had been able to hack out of the SHIELD servers and decrypt. Studies so far had built on Bruce's gamma radiation work, and there were notes full of conjecture regarding the uses of the radiation. It wasn't as intense as the gamma radiation that Bruce had done his early work in, and scientists weren't sure how to trigger the release of radiation that had allowed the tracking to be done in the first place. A few had tried to touch it, with gloves of various kinds and bare handed, but the radiation generated had never changed.

Shannon frowned when the discussion went to the various tests done so far. "But you were able to hold it and command it," she said, looking at Natasha. "Bare hands, I assume." Natasha nodded stiffly. "So that isn't something to trigger the staff."

"I intended to use it to stop the portal," Natasha said.

"So that has to be the issue. Scientists in general are going to have an open mind," Gina mused, hands around her cup of coffee. "We don't assume we know the outcome, we have a hypothesis, and even then don't push our ideas onto the testing. Whoever was trying to hold that thing would've had the intent of just seeing what would happen. They wouldn't be pushing their ideas onto something or someone else."

"Thank every god in creation for that," Clint said fervently.

"Ditto," Bruce murmured, looking vaguely unsettled. "The thought of someone changing who you are or what you want to do... That's my idea of a nightmare."

"Thanks," Clint offered dryly, and Bruce had such a contrite and abashed look on his face that the archer had to reach out and pat his arm. "I know you didn't mean it that way."

"Maybe it matters where on the staff they touch it," Shannon offered. All eyes swung in her direction, and she managed not to shrink back in her chair. "Loki would've grabbed it, used it as a scepter. Or a sword of some kind when he used it as a weapon, right? I doubt one of the scientists would've done the same."

"And is it the entire staff or just the gem inside?" Gina asked, tapping the side of her mug as she thought out loud. "I mean, it's a gold weapon. Or gold-ish. Whatever it is," she said with a dismissive wave, indicating she didn't think it mattered. "The metal part would matter for the blade aspect. But for the magic for Loki to use... Wouldn't that be the gem in it? Most of the movies with spell casters have lots of elaborate jewels and stuff to act as a focus. I don't see why you'd have some fancy jewel set inside the staff otherwise."

"So it might not even be the entire staff that has to be stolen and destroyed."

"Easier to take the whole thing and extract the gem later," Clint said.

"Then without touching it," Shannon said quickly. "That thing warps _minds,_ we don't want to mess with ours," she explained.

"Good point. And I doubt gloves will do it."

"Magic?"

"Our resident magic users are Frigga and Loki," Shannon said, lips twisting into a grimace. "No offense, but I don't want either of them involved." The others all looked at her in surprise. "Those are the idiots that a) thought they should put at least two dangerous and powerful magical artifacts in their same vaults, which is a security risk if I've ever heard one, and b) wanted to keep Loki in a cell like a bug in a jar and then wondered why they couldn't handle him." She pulled a face and gave them an exaggerated shrug. "They might be longer lived and have better technology, but that doesn't mean they've actually figured out what to do with it."

"So what hope do we have?" Bruce asked.

"We're not gonna keep it, that's for sure," Shannon told him. "We're gonna figure out a way to contain it or destroy it, because it's too dangerous to exist."

"Probably going to be an issue destroying it," Bruce sighed, shaking his head. "The energy signature of the staff was too high, even with a fraction of its power. You know what I said about a time bomb? Think nuclear reactor kind of power. We're talking about a new Chernobyl if it blows up."

"O-kay. Let's not do that," Gina murmured. "Tossing it in the ocean isn't an option, it'll get found eventually. So we need to house it somewhere that'll block its radiation signature."

"Is there something like that? Or do we have to build it?" Shannon asked. She caught Gina about to open her mouth and pointed at her. "Without involving my boyfriend."

"The engineer," Gina reminded them all.

"If it's building energy containment units? That would be Tony," Bruce said.

"I invited him," Clint said with a shrug, "but only got to voice mail." He drummed his fingers on the table. "This is going to be an utter disaster," he murmured. "But if someone has to physically take that gem out of the scepter, I vote for Shannon." He took in her slack jawed and wide eyed expression. "You're not trying to change anyone. I mean, not fundamentally change things. You'd never abuse the power that thing could have."

"Would you listen to me if I said that was a bad idea?" Shannon asked in trepidation.

"Nope," Gina replied before anyone else could.

"I don't want to hold some kind of mind whammy stick!"

"Which is exactly why you should be the one to do it," Bruce agreed. "You aren't going to do anything terrible with it."

"Would any of you?"

"Not gonna lie, I'd have Natasha date me in a heartbeat," Gina said. _"I_ don't think that's terrible, obviously, but your mileage may vary."

Shannon literally covered her face with her hands and shook it ruefully. "Oh my God, Gina, you have no shame."

"Not much, but some," she chirped with a broad smile. She looked around at the bemused faces around them. "We're of course skipping past the hard part: getting the scepter out of SHIELD in the first place."

Natasha and Clint rolled their eyes. "That's not the hard part," Natasha said in a droll tone. "Trust us, we've got that part covered. Bruce will have to figure out the best way to deactivate the gamma radiation, or block it, and if it's easiest to do that without the rest of the scepter, we'll have Shannon do that."

"Not a fan of the concept of being irradiated," Shannon admitted, pulling a face. "My aunt had cancer, and it wasn't pretty."

"This is probably going to have a different kind of gamma effect," Bruce replied wryly. Shannon clearly didn't get the reference, but the ones that did weren't about to enlighten her. "Somehow I don't think it's going to affect you that way, and it probably won't be the complete disaster that other gamma experiments of mine were."

"Why doesn't that sound very reassuring?" she asked rhetorically.

"We'll let them do their thing to get it, and I'm going to need some kind of lab space to try to work with the gem to deactivate it."

"I'm in a bio lab, but maybe there's stuff I can arrange for you to work with. I guess here would be the place?" Gina added uncertainly.

"That's probably where Tony's place would be best," Clint mused, "since he's got the space and probably could get equipment without eyebrows raised. But getting it there might be a bit trickier than getting it here."

Natasha lofted an eyebrow at him. "Really? It's a three hour drive. You don't think we could handle that?"

"If it causes additional rage issues on any of the bridges..." Clint warned.

"So here it is," Gina declared with a firm nod. "Not that we have tons of room around here, but I guess we'll figure out how much of the living room or kitchen you'll need?" she asked Bruce. "Sorry, it's not gonna very high tech."

"I've worked in worse conditions, trust me," Bruce assured Gina. "I think we'll be fine."

"Well then," Clint said with false cheer. "We've got a SHIELD facility to break into."

***  
***


	14. Changing Pace

Shannon was edgy and nervous about something, and trying valiantly to hide it from Loki. It was probably something professional, given how much she valued that and strove to be as close to the ideal as possible. That was such an impossible endeavor, Norns only knew how painful it was to realize that it could never be reached, and he understood the impulse to try anyway.

Perhaps she was right in that they had similarities after all.

To Loki's surprise, she didn't want to discuss conquest or circle back to the director of the invasion that he had alluded to. She didn't even want to discuss magic or Asgard or its culture, or how he felt about his identity.

"You said the other day that I didn't want anything," she began, voice quiet. Her pulse fluttered in her throat, and Loki found his eyes drawn to the sight. It wouldn't take much to slit her throat if he had his magic or a weapon, a fact that would have had him disdaining her and her ilk if he was still on Asgard. But now he was recognizing a different kind of strength, a different kind of bravery, and he was almost ashamed of his old self.

"And you said you did."

Her lips pulled back in a wry smile, but her heart didn't seem to be in it. Loki lifted his eyes from her vulnerable throat to hers, wondering what was going on in that mind of hers. "What is it that you want?"

"That's a deliberately vague question," he temporized.

She didn't seem amused by that as she normally would have been, and he wondered if he should be worried about that. "You can answer it however you like. However you need to."

"You normally don't give me that much latitude."

"Don't you need that on occasion?" she asked, voice quiet. "Because otherwise, I'm just giving you rules to rail against, just like everyone else has ever done to you."

Loki sucked in a slight breath. "There you are." At her questioning look, he gave her a wilted smile. "I suppose I'm used to you making cutting observations, trying to flay me to the bone and expose my black heart."

"Very poetic," she murmured.

"I was the scholar prince," he said in a similar tone. "I studied. I did magic." His throat closed suddenly, and his eyes almost watered, but he blinked it back. "Yes, there were rules on Asgard, and at times they did chafe. But I knew who I was and what I was supposed to do with them. I suppose I'm nothing now."

"But what did you _want?"_ she insisted. That sounded more like her, the passion she had for her craft clear in her voice. He didn't like the thought that she was distracted, that there were other worries more important than him, and wondered at that.

"You're thinking of something," she commented when he didn't answer.

"You're worried," Loki said abruptly, deciding to go for the honesty she always insisted she wanted. "I don't like it. I don't like that you're thinking of something else when you're here, when you're supposed to be working for me, when you're supposed to be with me."

Shannon blinked in surprise and leaned back slightly, then tilted her head to consider him. "There's a lot on my mind," she acknowledged. "I'm sorry it feels like I'm not really present with you. I'm trying to be, I promise." She leaned in forward when he pressed his lips together. "But this is important, too, Loki."

"Because you're saying it's not true."

"No, because what's happening here between us is as important as what's going on in your head. Remember? I didn't want to do therapy on my own. And you're comfortable enough to tell me that you're unhappy with me about something, without having to go at it sideways."

"Sideways," he echoed doubtfully.

"Insults, usually. Making me the stupid one when you're uncomfortable or scared."

Loki flinched. "Oh."

"I didn't need to talk about it then, but I suppose that we should talk about it now."

"You wanted to talk about what I wanted."

"I don't think this is an avoidance tactic. I think this is you telling me what you want the only way you know how."

Now it was his turn to blink in surprise. "Why do you say that?"

"Now _that_ was a deflection," she said, a smile on her face and the usual sparkle back in her eyes. Loki could feel himself relax a bit more. She truly wasn't angry with how he had insulted her last session, how he had fallen sullen and silent, ashamed of himself for his weakness and the explosion of emotion he had wanted to repress.

"But to answer your question," she said after a moment, the corner of her mouth curled in a smile, "is because I ask what you want, and you immediately tell me you're unhappy with me not being present. That I'm not fully engaged emotionally, that you feel a distance. They don't have the language for this kind of thing on Asgard, but that's what you wanted. We can call it whatever we want, but it's the connection that you need. You have to be connected with someone, to understand and be understood. That's what you were looking for as the scholar prince, finding whatever secrets you could. You had a place and a purpose, and in that felt understood. And studying helped you understand what was going on around you." Shannon reached forward into the space between them, but didn't quite touch the gold cuff on the wrist closest to her, as if it wasn't allowed her. "This stops that, and you never learned a different way to approach others. To connect."

Loki swallowed, feeling as though he was finally able to move again when she stopped speaking. "Interesting theory," he murmured, then licked his lips.

"Not wrong?"

He looked at her earnest expression, open and question, ready to take it if he said she was wrong, but just as ready to accept if he said she was right. It felt like he was standing on the edge of a chasm, that the answer was a momentous one, that he had to make the correct decision or tumble into another Void.

"There's no easy answer, is there?" she asked gently.

"There's no script," he said tightly. His throat still felt tight, words stuck beneath his lungs.

"And I'm not going to give you one."

Loki flinched, then looked down to where her hand still hovered above his cuff. "There are many ways to hurt others," he said quietly.

"Uncertainty is a terrible way to do it, too."

He nodded and swallowed uneasily. "Yes, it is."

"It hurts you to be honest. Because you don't know what's going to happen next. Someone might be honest back, someone might lie. But if you fall back into the old patterns, you know what's going to happen next. It could hurt, but it hurts less than uncertainty."

Loki's eyes flicked up to hers, and then he nodded slowly. "You are something of a cipher in that way. Because you don't react the way I think you will."

"And I guess at why you do it instead of getting pissed off at you."

"Others don't change," he said stiffly. "There isn't any point to wanting. It's too late."

"If it wasn't?" she prodded.

Lifting his wrist until her hand smacked onto the gold cuff, he gave her a grimace. "It's too late. There's no point to wanting. There's no point to needing. I've made a mess of things, and plans fell apart."

"Somehow you strike me as the kind of person that has a dozen of them going at once."

"Perhaps I used to be."

"And now?"

"A shell. A hidden relic." He dropped his hand down to his lap and leaned back in his chair to look at the sky, so pale it was nearly white, signaling that snow would be coming soon enough. "So it's too late. Relics don't want anything. They don't feel."

"You do."

"It's futile."

"So let's call this an exercise in futility. What do you _want?"_

Loki shut his eyes to blot out the sight of the endless white, cloudless sky. It was the opposite of the Void, but he still felt as if he was falling, about to fetch up somewhere horrible. He swallowed, feeling the knot of words in his throat that wanted to come up, but were too tangled and tripping over each other in their desperation.

"I don't want to feel this," he said finally, letting his chin drop down. He still avoided her gaze, because he wasn't answering her question, either. "I don't want to _feel."_

"Because then you'd have to do something about it."

He raised his eyes to her, a chill crawling down his spine. "Relics don't feel. They certainly don't do anything."

"And you're a person. Damaged, proud, stubborn and intelligent enough to know that what you're doing isn't a healthy way to cope." She pursed her lips and then reached out to grasp his hand between hers. He'd thought that therapists weren't supposed to touch, but perhaps this was like her admission of her father's illness. A prudent sharing of touch. Just a taste, because he'd been in isolation for so long and he was obviously flagging and going insane.

"I have a feeling that returning to Asgard is never going to happen," Shannon began, making Loki flinch in spite of himself, "unless something drastic changes. In you, in them. It's not about conquest, not about showing them up. I think you need to show them who you really are."

He shook his head and pulled away. "That is something I cannot do."

"Or won't do?"

"Cannot." He clenched his teeth together for a moment. "They stole me as an infant and changed who I was and who I would have become. I cannot show them what I do not know."

"I'm not talking about walking around like a Jotun."

"Jotnar," he corrected.

Shannon nodded and repeated him. "I'm talking about your personality. Your faults, your vulnerabilities, showing them what you want from them, what you need. It's a risk, but a calculated one."

His lips and jaw twitched, and he knew tears would come if he let them. With her, they would be safe. The Black Widow was poised behind him, wouldn't be able to see how it was difficult to swallow, to push words past his lips, to keep his spine straight and chin lifted high. Something in his chest ached, a hollow and dull pain that was only too familiar.

"That is the kind of risk I lose," Loki murmured before looking away from her. "I always have, I always will." He paused, then turned back to her. "Do you have a pen?"

She frowned at him, but nodded at the non sequitur. At his impatient gesture, she handed it over, and he caught her wrist before she could withdraw her arm. Natasha bristled, knife at the ready, but Loki merely retrieved the pen and then carefully inscribed a pattern into her palm. "This is a runic spell I created when young," he said softly. "It is protective, and helps to center thoughts. Use it as a meditation, and it should help quiet the storms in your mind." He let go of her wrist and then gave her back the pen.

There was nothing more to say to her, no matter how much she tried to coax him into it.

***

Clint grinned at Shannon when he arrived on time for his session. "Hey, Doc," he chirped, collapsing into his usual chair and nearly putting his feet up on her desk. She shot him a sharp look, and he let his feet fall back to the ground. "I showed up."

She frowned at him deeply. "That's not enough. You have to do more than just show up. There needs to be effort."

"Hey, I'm putting in my effort with this end of the world nonsense."

"I'm not talking about your extracurricular activities. I'm talking about how you see yourself, how you interact with others around you. Because there's definitely a theme in that, which you haven't noticed."

He frowned back at her, brows knit. "That's... Harsher than you usually go for."

"I've wondered if perhaps I've soft pedaled things too much for you. And perhaps dancing around topics really doesn't help you as much as I thought it would."

"The tough love approach?" Clint asked, eyebrow arched. After a moment of searching her face and expression, he burst out laughing. "You really got redacted files on me, didn't you? That tough love bullshit won't do shit for me."

She shook her head, and Clint wondered if this harshness was really because Shannon wanted to take a new approach, or if it was in response to him knowing some personal things about her now. Not that he couldn't have looked it up before; he'd certainly done that with the prior therapists that SHIELD had assigned him to. He hadn't done that yet with Shannon because she was obviously young and well meaning, and also because Natasha had a measure of trust in her. Hell, waking him up with a phone call because Shannon didn't want to break his confidentiality over a rather trivial (to him, anyway) detail that had come up in his sessions only told Clint how very conscientious and earnest she was. He doubted that she was embarrassed to be who she was, and probably had talked things over about patients knowing things about her.

But then, he also remembered how vehemently she had opposed touching the staff herself. She didn't want to even be tempted with changing others, and Natasha had said she was horrified at the thought of manipulating others.

Clint leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest and watched her closely as she started talking about some of the theories she had bouncing around in her head. Interesting, not exactly wrong, and just wavering on the edge of truth.

"I like the dancing," he said finally, interrupting her. "Believe it or not, I've thought of a lot of this off and on over the years. There's a lot of opportunity for thinking about shit when up in a sniper's nest. It's not always pleasant stuff that I do, yeah. So my thoughts aren't always pleasant, either. And there's plenty of shit to dredge up without losing focus and compromising the mission. And I admit it, it's better to act like I'm slacking off than to go around like a sour sack of shit. Nobody wants to deal with that. Life is hard enough without having to deal with all the shitty baggage people have."

"Yet I made it my life's work," Shannon said, a wry twist to her lips and a slight quirk in her eyebrow. Her head tilted to the side in silent question: _What does that make me?_

"People do weird shit all the time," Clint told her brightly. "Maybe we just like screwing around and messing up perfect plans because nothing is perfect. Maybe it's just wanting to see what would happen."

"Maybe it's a backward cry for help. That only the ones that really care will actually pay attention and do something about it," Shannon offered, head still tilted.

"And how many do?" he challenged her.

"Not enough."

"No," he agreed, nodding sadly. "Not enough."

"So," Shannon began, voice gentling to the tones he was used to hearing, "if the mask is that of a slacker, some ex-carnie arrow guy, who's behind it? Who's wearing the mask and keeping himself hidden away?"

"I guess that's a story no one really bothers to figure out."

"Surely some people know who that is."

"Only the ones that matter," he said. "Everyone else can fuck off."

She folded her hands on the desk and kept her head tilted to the side, contemplating him. It wasn't an uncomfortable kind of feeling, though she was obviously assessing him. "If confronting the problem head on bothers you, perhaps we can instead focus on the type of person you _can_ trust."

Clint hadn't thought she would take that tactic. And she didn't even seem angry at the way he had challenged her, which probably meant this was a sideways attempt to dig deeper into his head. He found himself laughing out loud at that thought, because they were back at that dance of hers. Which he really did enjoy, he found. It wasn't drilling into the heart of him that he enjoyed, but the verbal sparring and having to think, which the other SHIELD therapists didn't seem to inspire in him. It had felt like rote discussions, as if they were checking off ticky boxes on a form somewhere in the back of their heads, and then moving on to the next victim SHEILD brass threw at them.

Perhaps it was because Shannon was new. She hadn't gotten so jaded and demoralized by the system yet, and it was such a contrast to the sarcastic soul he'd become.

Leaning forward to put his elbow on her desk and his chin in his hand, he smiled at her nonreaction to his laughter. "I suppose I do have requirements for that. Kind of," he amended. "I never really put it into words before, but that's got me thinking about it, and yeah, I can tell who I can really talk to about shit."

With a gentle smile on her face, Shannon got him talking.

***

Shannon headed over to Gina's lab and heavily sat down next to her at the bench. She didn't say anything, just let her slumped shoulders do the talking; Gina was using one of the micropipettes to transfer things under the hood, and Shannon wasn't about to screw up her calculations. It was only when Gina was done with setting up her experiment and ready to put it in the incubator that she turned to Shannon and gave her a concerned look. Shannon merely leaned in next to her and sighed gustily. Gina wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss onto her temple. "What can you tell me?" Gina asked gently.

"I'm just so _tired."_ Another gusty sigh, fingers twisted tightly in her lap. Shannon's eyes closed and she sighed again. "Work, as usual. Our _friends_ coming over the other night, my brother finally e-mailing me back..."

"Uh oh," Gina murmured. "They're doing holidays after all?"

"My sister and her husband and kids can fly to visit them. So now I have to, because they're not going to come here when it's easier for just me to go to them. Because I'm alone and everyone is there now."

Gina sighed. "So no experimenting and such for you, then?"

"Ugh. I haven't even booked a ticket yet. I don't even want to go. My heart's not in it."

"You guys didn't really do the Christmas thing anyway. What does it matter now?"

"Because _Ba_ is sick, and my mother is acting like it's lethal."

She clucked her tongue like an Italian grandmother and squeezed Shannon's shoulder a bit tighter. She noticed that a few of the others in the lab space seemed to be done with their bench work, and used her free arm to gesture toward two black women on the other side of the room. "Rose! Raquel!"

"Are you making an example of me?" Shannon groaned.

"Oh, come on. My wannabe girlfriend sent me a text earlier today," Gina murmured, "and you're apparently going to be going out of town soon. So we are totally going to have a girl's night before you go."

"Maybe this time I'll actually drink," Shannon sighed.

Raquel was the taller of the two, and clucked her tongue in sympathy when she caught Shannon's comment. "Rough day, _chica?"_ she asked. At Shannon's nod, she looked over at Rose. "I just need to set up my PCR. How 'bout you?"

Rose thought it over, lips pursed and eyes rolled up slightly. "I have my set running now. It should finish up at seven, and I can't let it sit longer or everything will run right off the gel."

"Then we'll head out now, and you can come back in an hour," Raquel said brightly. She turned to Shannon. "We can't talk about the work stress, obviously, but you're so on top of that shit, it's probably not that stuff you need to talk about anyway."

"In the mood for family bullshit?" Gina asked, giving Shannon another squeeze.

"As long as it's not mine," Raquel laughed. She extended a hand to Shannon to help her to her feet. "C'mon. As tempting as it is to wallow, we can't do that. It's what _my_ therapist tells me, anyway."

Shannon gave her a faint laugh. "She's not wrong."

"Yup. Which is why I listen to her," Raquel said with a grin. "She'll be so proud of me, using her advice and being social."

Gina snickered. "So I'm a therapist-approved friend?"

"By more than one therapist," Rose pointed out with a smile.

That got Shannon chuckling a bit, and she gave them all a smile. "Thanks, guys. The family crap isn't _that_ bad, really, just..."

"Not what you need on top of the work crap," Raquel guessed.

Nodding, Shannon gave them a rueful smile. "Yeah. You know it's bad if your patient gives you a major hint about meditating."

"Alcohol certainly helps me meditate," Gina joked, patting Shannon's arm encouragingly. "Rose has to stay painfully sober because of her experiment, but Raquel and I are good to go for getting smashed." She grinned at Rose. "So you're our designated driver."

Rose playfully groaned and rolled her eyes, but took off her white lab coat. "Guess it was bound to be my turn eventually." She dug her phone out of the lower pocket and set an alarm so she could return in time. "Are we inviting any of the other labs to play?"

Three sets of eyes swung to look at Shannon, who blinked owlishly. Gina almost felt sorry for her, but pushed that down. The poor thing needed to be pushed and prodded sometimes so that she didn't get as stuck as her patients.

Shannon let out a slow breath. "Fuck it. Let's pretend it's Friday night."

Gina cheered playfully and led them out to knock on some other lab doors.

***

Shannon had copied the runic design that Loki had inscribed on her palm, but it hadn't looked like anything she could find on the internet. It didn't match Nordic runes, Pictish or Celtic ones, and a reverse image search on Google didn't even bring up any artistic drawings that it could resemble. There was asking Frigga what it might mean, but that might break some kind of confidentiality. He had offered it willingly, because he cared about her, and that kind of connection was bound to be fragile.

So instead, she did exactly what Loki had suggested and meditated on the design. It was difficult to do that right after drinking with the lab geeks; they were scarily able to party hard, even though no one would guess it to look at them. She'd had a hurricane and mai tai, and thrown up in the bathroom sink not long after. One of the other lab guys, maybe his name was Richard, had clucked in sympathy and told her not to mix her alcohols. It would've been better if he had brought that up _before_ someone had pushed the drink into her hands.

Instead of focusing on the delicate swirls and lines of the rune, she found herself thinking on art forms and calligraphy, probably because of all the image searching she had done before meeting up with Gina in the first place. From there, her mind moved to dancing, the beat and sway of music, the way she used to get so caught up in the rhythm and melody, even if she could barely carry a tune and had only gotten through her music courses by sheer force of will. Practice didn't always make perfect, not always, but this was something she couldn't be good at. She could appreciate it, but she couldn't create it, couldn't feel the sway and beat of music just from looking at the notes on staves.

Perhaps this was like that. The symbol could be like the older notation for music, and she could always go digging down that rabbit hole to see if it was a mashup of Asgardian runic magic, music and art. There were different kinds of magic, and he could possibly have invented his own kind. It sounded like the kind of thing that Loki would do, and she would have to do a deep dive and study if she was going to understand it. There were no appointments right away, but she did have a meeting with Natasha that afternoon. Showing up hung over and erratic during a supervision session was a definite no-no, and—

Well, this was not following the point of meditation, so again Shannon thought of the rune that Loki had drawn for her. She thought of the press of her ballpoint pen, the scratch of ball against skin, the intent look on his face when he had carefully drawn it out for her. He hadn't ever used it for himself that she knew of; the notes he had taken for himself had been carefully taken apart but this symbol had never shown up that Natasha knew of. So either he had done meditation on his own or he hadn't thought it was important enough before.

No, that also wasn't the point of meditation. Recenter. Refocus. There was the swoop and swirl, almost looking like an eye, and now Shannon found herself thinking of Henry, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, how he felt when holding her close, and that he had seemed delighted every time they met for a date.

Not just seemed. Actually was delighted. He had left a message on her phone the night before, hoping to meet up again over the weekend—

Wait. Meditating. Right.

This wasn't working out, so Shannon sighed and shook her head to clear out thoughts and the sticky cobwebs of a hangover. This was why she didn't drink. Stupid Asian metabolism of alcohol. Or rather, lack of it.

The head shake meant that she could see more of her living room than she usually saw when she sat on the couch, curled up to read a book. There was a box on the floor that looked like an umbrella stand turned sideways, and she found herself standing up before she realized she was even going to. Gina's words from the day before settled into her brain, something about the "wannabe girlfriend," and Shannon felt stupid for not putting it together sooner.

Natasha had brought the scepter to the duplex after all. Which meant that Bruce Banner would be spending time at her home to study it, and hopefully would know how to neutralize it.

A thing that influenced minds was right in her home, but she couldn't blame it for the drinking or the wailing about family matters with friends. No, that was all on her. It was probably why she couldn't even meditate, which usually was pretty easy for her to do.

Shannon approached the box, a tendril of fear coiling in her gut, but reached down anyway. Just one look. Bruce would need to study it, and he did mention having to possibly take the jewel out of the golden scepter to study them separately.

It was the gem that was the thing he needed to study. As she reached into the box, she was certain of it.

And then she was holding the scepter.

***  
***


	15. Off The Ground

Loki paced the length of his cell, a frown deeply cutting his features. Shannon had sent word through an underling that there was something important she wanted to discuss, and had scheduled an extra session for this afternoon. Now she was late. The only other time she had been late was a family emergency, but she had thought to tell him and made arrangements so that he would still have his weekly sessions. It was humbling and heartbreaking how much he relied on these times, and it burned that whoever was monitoring the cameras would know as well.

His head jerked up when Natasha stalked into the outer room, eyes snapping with anger. That she allowed him to see it meant that it didn't matter who knew she was angry, and it was a big deal. Did it have something to do with Shannon's lateness?

Natasha had a piece of paper in her hand and she slapped it up against the glass of his cell with her lips compressed tight. "What is this?"

"It's a rune I developed to help with meditation."

"What is it made of? I brought it to your mother, and she didn't recognize it."

Loki didn't flinch at the mention of Frigga. Of course she would ask Frigga. Who else could she talk to about magic? "I told you, I developed it."

"From what? _When?"_

He blinked and stared at her. The emphasis on _when_ was bothering him, as well as how transparent she was being. This didn't mesh with what he knew of her. Add that to Shannon being late to an emergent appointment... "What's happened?"

"Shannon's missing," Natasha ground out. "Right after you drew this on her hand, she had out of character behavior, and now is missing."

There was something she didn't say, something that was possibly important to what led Natasha to being so concerned. Loki was aware of the cameras, of the importance of keeping secrets, and that he knew Natasha did nothing without reason.

"Runes are important," Loki began carefully. "I have explained as much to her. They carry a magic of their own, and some believe that carving a rune is almost like casting." He raised his hand, gold cuff visible, and began to trace the pattern onto the glass in front of him. As he did, he carefully met Natasha's gaze and explained each section. "This is from the rune for protection, to protect the mind from stray thoughts. This is from the rune for completion, so that understanding can be reached. This is from stillness, because I am not a patient creature by nature. This is from knowledge, so that I can see through the pattern of things."

She touched her ear, indicating a hidden earpiece, and then nodded sharply. "They say you're not wrong about that."

"The Queen would not belittle knowledge, and neither would I," Loki said, lips drawn back tightly. He let his hand fall to his side. "I would not harm Dr. Tran."

"Scrying spells aren't locating her."

Loki digested that piece of information. "When was she last seen? One of your underlings had come in earlier today to say she had requested an emergency meeting."

That was clearly news to Natasha, and she was unhappy about that. "We'll look into it."

"Agent Romanoff," Loki said before she could step away from the glass, "I may be able to offer you and your agency help."

Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Why would you help me?"

"Not you," he corrected, then flashed a smile that was too sharp, too brittle. "For Dr. Tran. I hold her in esteem, and our work is not concluded."

Her gaze returned to normal, almost softened for a moment, and she nodded sharply at him. "That I can understand."

"There are different kinds of scrying spells, and not all are..." He gave her a sardonic twist of his lips that was more of a grimace than a smile. "Not all are savory. The Queen Mother may not have considered some of the under magicks that are present in the universe."

If anything, that made her jaw tighten further. Another detail for Loki to file away. "Perhaps not. What do you need for this other spell?"

He lifted his wrists with a laugh, as if he hadn't shown them repeatedly to her and Shannon in all these months. "Am I indeed the one to cast it? Interesting idea."

"Would you show Frigga the spell?"

"Such casual disrespect," he taunted, pulling away from the glass slightly, not sure why his gut was churning. "Does she allow such things?"

"Answer the question."

"She doesn't like blood magic," Loki said quietly. "Even if I show her, I couldn't guarantee that she would perform the spell for you."

Natasha's gaze lengthened, so she must have been listening to her earpiece. "She's going to modify your cuffs." Before he could even reply, her eyes narrowed and he was looking into the face of a soulless killer. If anything, he felt almost comforted by the sight of it. He knew how to deal with that kind of person, knew how to balance on the knife's edge without falling too far over. Well, he liked to think that he did. Sometimes it was hard to tell if he was still falling through the Void or if this was his own personal Helheim.

"Of course," he replied, bitterness evident for all to hear. "Someone has to know the under magicks and do the spells, and it can't be the Allmother. How that would taint her soul." His throat closed tight and he knew his eyes watered. He stretched his lips back, a rictus of a smile that felt like he was exposing himself entirely to this creature in front of him.

Perhaps he was, just as she had revealed herself to him.

"Someone has to do the job," she said, voice sharp yet emotionless at the same time. It was a marvel how she could pull that off so flawlessly. "Might as well be us."

***

Clint glared at Natasha and Loki in the conference room. "This was a dirty, rotten trick."

"Yes, it was," Natasha acknowledged. "But this is a clean room, and we have shit to discuss."

Loki lofted an eyebrow at Natasha in silent query that was ignored, and Clint felt a trill of satisfaction roll through him. _Yeah, take that, fucker,_ he couldn't help but think. He even managed to paste a pleasant smile on his face because of it.

"Secrets don't like to be kept, but we've managed to keep quite a few," Natasha began, looking at Loki. "The scepter isn't at SHIELD any longer."

He sucked in a breath, and now that Clint was looking for it, he could see a flash of fear in those eyes. It was eerily similar to that look he got in his talks, when he looked as though he was struck across the head, when he was sweating and ill, steps staggering under the weight of something he never discussed.

Oh, no. He was _not_ going to feel sorry for the evil bastard.

"Who has it?"

"This is a clean room, meaning there are no listening devices, no spells placed that will let someone listen in," Natasha said instead of answering right away. She nodded toward a device in the middle of the table, which was clearly a Stark Industries design. "The background on this is that Dr. Tran figured out what the staff did." Clint watched Loki freeze in place. "So we all agreed that it should never be studied or copied."

"Who has it?" Loki repeated, a thread of desperation in his voice.

"We stole it, Clint and I," Natasha continued calmly, as if he hadn't spoken at all.

 _"Who has it?"_ Loki cried.

As if the magic in threes commanded her to speak, Natasha finally said "I think Shannon does."

Loki seemed to crumple a bit in on himself, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "It may corrupt her. I fear for her mind."

"Why do you say that?" Clint asked, finally speaking up. His voice was harsh, spit out like nails from a rail gun, and it almost surprised him. He hadn't _wanted_ to care about his therapist, and certainly didn't care about the profession as a whole. But it was different for Shannon Tran as a _person,_ because he knew full well what it was like to be in thrall to that damn scepter, the blue haze over his eyes and thoughts. Maybe it would be different because someone else wasn't pulling the strings, but he feared it wouldn't be so.

"She would want me to be honest with you."

"Yes, she would," Natasha agreed. Clint had to bite back his _You wouldn't know honest if it bit you in the ass_ comment that he wanted to make.

Apparently his wounds were deeper than he thought they were. Shannon would want to know about that, would want to process it.

Assuming that she still wanted the same things when she was done with the scepter.

"There is... a presence. Different from the magic of my realm." His words were halting, pained, pulled out of him as if dug out of his very flesh. Clint knew that feeling, didn't envy it at all, but he refused to feel sorry for him. He did this to himself. He dug his own grave, and it was time for him to claw his own way out.

"Describe it," Natasha demanded.

"You have no understanding of it."

"Then you better be damn good with your description."

He bristled, but there was no sympathy from Clint. "The magic carries different energies. The _spá, seiðr, galðr,_ the runes... They resonate differently, like different colors in the spectrum, different musical notes. That is the closest comparison you would understand."

"Okay," Natasha nodded. "Go on."

"The magic in the scepter is different. Primal. It is nothing like those feelings at all, as if it isn't even music or color."

"Then what is it?" Clint asked.

"Perhaps a source of magic."

"You don't believe that."

Loki frowned and his gaze turned inward. "I suspect it is not."

"Then what do you _suspect?"_ Clint ground out.

"There were tales," Loki began slowly. "The origins of the universe, of life, of magic itself." He looked at the wall as he swallowed, not meeting their gazes. "Small things," he said, voice breaking. Clint ruthlessly shoved down the sympathy rising inside of his chest. "But powerful things, evolved at the beginning. A distillation of the energies of the universe. Child's tales I had thought once."

"But?" Natasha prompted, just as ruthless as Clint needed her to be.

"But the Tesseract was that kind of energy signature," he said, lips trembling slightly. "The draw of it... to hear it singing a new language of its own..."

"Your mother doesn't say that about it."

Loki flinched at Clint's words, jaw clenched. "It is power. It is energy. And it is too much for a fragile body to be able to channel."

"Meaning what?" Clint demanded.

"Meaning we have to find her, or else Dr. Tran might die."

***

The spells included in the golden cuffs only limited Loki's magic now, and included powerful tracking spells and ways to prevent him from subverting the geasa that Frigga placed on him. He clearly resented every moment of it, glaring at her and Director Fury. He could feel them press into him, almost like a shell around his body that he couldn't shake off. It grated at his spine, made him feel irritable and out of sorts. His body didn't feel like his own anymore, wasn't something he even recognized. Loki had never really cared about his appearance, not past the basics, but now that Natasha was changing it so that he could move through the mortal populace without their ire, he missed it.

Something else about him taken away without his consent. Another piece of himself stripped away. More concern that he was a monster.

It was like swallowing bitter poison.

Clint Barton didn't enjoy his close presence, but that wasn't a comfort to Loki's shriveled heart. He didn't know what to think now that he didn't have anything enforcing his desires upon the other man. Would he kill Loki when this was over? Would he finally rest and get a moment's peace? Or would he continue to wallow in his failure?

The altered appearance did allow him to move through the streets of Manhattan to collect some of the things he would need, from the mundane to the esoteric in hidden shops in Chinatown. It was easy to speak their tonal languages with spells and Allspeak, but he didn't even try to work any other spells within the translation ones. Shannon was missing, her mind would break under the weight of the scepter, and he wouldn't allow that. He liked her, and he didn't want her dead.

She was useful. He had to think of it like that. She had a purpose, she was a means to an end, and if he thought of it in those terms then he could function. If he didn't, the spell was broken and he would howl with frustrated rage.

Shannon's roommate had provided hair from her brush, her toothbrush and the pillowcase she had last used. She had last seen Shannon in their kitchen before she had left early for work, apparently none the worse for wear from their evening drinking and carousing. "She was stressed," the woman said. "Of course we're going to try to party to distract her from it," she had snapped when Loki had tried to put down her efforts. "You're a huge chunk of it, anyway," she'd added, wagging a finger in his direction as if he wasn't capable of grievous harm. "You as her patient, and that fucking scepter in our living room!"

Loki had stilled at her words. "Why was it in your living room?"

"We were going to study it. Well, Bruce was. He's the gamma radiation expert or something," the woman told him, arms crossed beneath her breasts as she took on a belligerent glare at him. For a moment, he was reminded of Sif and her disapproval at some of his childhood antics, and Loki's breath caught in his chest.

"You truly stole it," Loki said to Natasha, who looked back at him with a bland expression.

"Of course we did."

He let out a slow breath, and pressed his lips together. He'd believed, but he'd also doubted. They were professional liars, after all, and had no reason to be honest with him.

_It hurts you to be honest. Because you don't know what's going to happen next._

There was no script, no path. But he could still use his magic, now that he was given access back to it, however limited and damaged it was. Baby magic. Under magic. Tricks and spells that the Aesir frowned upon, but still carried a power that shouldn't be ignored.

Loki liked the feel of that, the rightness of it.

The container that housed the scepter was still there, top opened, right where it had been left. Shannon was missing, gone for over twenty four hours, and mortal procedurals always said the first twenty four hours were the most important. Clues could be missed, decayed, lost.

But not with magic.

Ground bone and ash from the fires of a kitchen god's altar were mixed together with a sweet apple wine, and Loki tried not to think about the incongruity of using a simple glass tumbler instead of an elaborate or ceremonial bowl for this. The pillowcase, toothbrush and hair were placed on a silver bowl he had purchased in Chinatown, the contents of the tumbler poured into it. Next came a mixture of herbs poured in the shape of runes around its edges, and a hefty circle of salt over the runes.

Natasha, Clint and Shannon's roommate watched in silence, not breaking his concentration. "Fire," he blurted, reaching out to the side without breaking off eye contact with the bowl. "I am not allowed to do harm, so even lighting a fire spell for this will break the geas."

The roommate fled to the kitchen, where some of the herbs had come from, and returned with a small box in her hands. "Thanks, Gina," Natasha said as there was a rasping sound and the scent of sulfur. Ah. Matches. Gina pressed the edge of the match to Loki's outstretched fingers so that he could grasp it, then position it just where he needed it.

As soon as the tiny flame touched the mixture in the bowl, the contents erupted into flames. Gina shouted some kind of epithet he didn't bother to try to translate, and was the only one to respond with surprise. Natasha and Clint were too well seasoned as spies for that.

It burned cleanly, flashing different colors of the rainbow. "This is a good sign," he murmured, knowing they wouldn't understand what it meant. "The lack of smoke means there was no harm intended by the absence. It was not a violent abduction."

"Somehow, still not comforting," Gina intoned darkly.

"Not when an artifact of that magnitude is involved, no," Loki agreed.

"Why is this working when the scrying spells the queen did didn't?" she asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm not looking for Dr. Tran directly," Loki murmured, placing his hand into the fire. Gina squeaked in surprise, and the two spies stared closer at him, open curiosity in their expressions. "The scepter is missing too, of course, and there is not—"

Loki snatched his hand back, a blister forming on the back of it. "I stand corrected," he said stiffly. "There is a mind indeed."

"Wait, what?" Clint asked.

"I had assumed it was inert. Power without direction," he said tightly as the blister spontaneously popped and oozed a clear, viscous fluid. He took care not to let it drip into the burning flames in the bowl. "I thought it was an artifact, and that was all it was." There was a bitter twist to his lips. "I suppose I should have known better."

"I don't get it," Gina said, snatching up tissues from the box near him.

Pressing his lips together in pain, Loki accepted the tissues to blot the fluid before it dripped all over the carpet. "I don't know how much she told you about that scepter."

"It wasn't yours first and does a mind whammy on its own," Gina told him flatly. "It freaked her the fuck out, and she's usually pretty good about being calm about weird shit you guys talk about in sessions."

Loki winced, then nodded slowly. "She is correct. It was not mine. It was to help me seize control of this world, so that it could be given to another."

"The one that scares _you,"_ Natasha murmured.

He didn't respond, but visibly swallowed and kept his focus on the blister. "The geas isn't allowing me to heal myself," he said instead. The hopeless note was painful to hear.

"Why can't you heal yourself?" Natasha asked, brows knit. "That's not doing harm."

"Apparently there is the thought that I should not be hale and whole," Loki replied, still staring at the blister on the back of his hand.

Gina disappeared into the bathroom and came back with a towel, hydrogen peroxide and bandages. "God, you people are fucked up," she muttered, kneeling down next to Loki to clean out the wound. "Seriously, you really are better off on Earth than Asgard. The fuck, man," she said, shaking her head when he hissed and nearly jerked his hand back. "There is a special kind of cruelty in letting people get sick and suffer."

"Yes," he said softly. "It is common for war criminals to be treated so."

She looked up at him, expression hard. "You're a special brand of fucked up yourself, but it doesn't do any good to _torture_ you. You don't learn anything that way."

"I see why you and Dr. Tran are such good friends," Loki said quietly, watching as she blotted the wound and then started to bandage it up.

"So what does this mean for your spell?" Natasha asked, not leaning in any closer to the magic flames than she really had to.

"It can find Dr. Tran and the scepter, but I cannot use this as a bridge to pull her here or simply go there." Loki nodded his thanks at Gina. "They don't want to be found."

Gina narrowed her eyes at Loki. "Say what now? Can I talk to her through that thing? Is it like a magic phone or something?" Before he could even answer her, Gina leaned in toward the flame, not feeling any heat. "Shannon, you get your ass back home _right this second_ and you tell me what you're doing with the mind whammy stick or so help me, you will owe me a whole extra month's rent!"

The two spies stared at her when she leaned back with a satisfied expression on her face. She shrugged at them. "Dude. She's Vietnamese and her parents were boat people. They are serious about the money thing and passed it down to her. She's lucky she's not some kind of hoarder like on TV, you know?"

Loki looked at Gina and then at the two spies. "Humans are quite strange," he said mildly, then stared at the flames. They were purely white now, with occasional threads of yellow flickering in them, and he frowned at it. "I think she's attempting to communicate."

"You think?" Clint asked, skeptical.

"This spell is not normally used this way," Loki told him dryly.

"The fire didn't like you," Gina said, lips pursed. "So don't put your hand back in there."

"Wasn't planning on it. I was going to ask you to."

She gaped at him. "Say what?"

"You'll get a sense of what she's trying to say, but there's no other way to establish a connection with her."

"And let it burn me?"

"She doesn't want to talk to _me,"_ he huffed, lifting his bandaged hand.

Gina looked at the spies helplessly, but Clint lifted his hands in a "no way" gesture. "Archer. I need my hands."

Natasha shrugged at her. "I'd do it, but if she wants to talk to you, you're going to be our best bet right now. I can help if you want."

"Jesus. I didn't think first contact was going to be _fire talking,"_ Gina grumbled, then put her left hand into the fire. "Shannon, you better not be pranking me."

For a long time, there was only silence, and Gina's hand in the fire as it burned merrily without harming her. She frowned at it, looking almost as though she was listening to something.

"There are stories," Shannon's voice came from behind them, sounding soft and almost dreamy, "in multiple cultures all over the world. The stones from heaven, the mark of the gods."

Everyone turned around in the direction of her voice, and Gina snatched her hand out of the fire as she shot to her feet, mouth falling open. Shannon hovered in the air behind them, a reddish gold mist all around her. She wore a lavender wrap top with long sleeves brushing he palms, plain jeans and a pair of black socks with red polka dots. It was the same thing Gina had seen her wearing that morning. Her hair was loose, wafting as if on a breeze, and she had an odd, earnest expression on her face. "Have you ever thought of that? These stories? That there must be a commonality to them, something they're all based on."

 _"Are you out of your mind?"_ Gina cried, staring at her. "What the hell happened?"

"Dr. Selvig said the stone opened his mind," Shannon said, her voice sounding oddly flat. "Do you remember that, Agent Romanoff? Loki? Such things she had to tell him."

"I remember," Loki whispered, eyes widening as he slowly rose to his feet.

"You didn't believe him. You thought it was the raving of a lunatic." Her mouth quirked up in the corner. "I think you didn't want to believe him, Loki."

Loki murmured something under his breath, unable to look away from Shannon as she hovered, surrounded by tendril of that odd, wafting mist.

"At the time I didn't ask him what he meant by that," Natasha said, voice calm as if floating women were something she saw every day. "And then he was whisked away to some lab, so I didn't get a chance to ask."

Shannon looked her, a pleasant and somewhat condescending smile on her fact that didn't quite sit right on her face. It looked almost like she didn't know how to smile any longer. "He was to study things. And he was, but then was supplanted by others whose interest wasn't so benign. He just wanted to learn. He wanted to do right by the world, and that's always a wonderful thing. There are those whose interests aren't so pure."

"You're the stone now," Clint said, looking at her with his head cocked to the side.

Her smile was still fixed in place. "You're always so much cleverer than you let on."

He made a circular gesture to her floating form. "Gotta admit, I don't get this part, though."

"She can't handle the power, even a fraction of it. She's fragile." Shannon looked at them all earnestly, eyes wide and almost innocent looking. "So she must be protected. I like her mind. She's like Dr. Selvig." Shannon's body looked to Gina, head tilting to the side in a way that looked unnatural even though the angle wasn't odd. "She didn't mean to worry you. Her defenses were down, and she was trying to think and focus, but couldn't. Too many worries, too much she felt responsible for."

"So you took over?"

"No," Shannon told Clint, smile truly condescending now. "I'm helping her. She wanted to help me, so I'm going to help her."

"Um, no offense or anything," Gina blurted, frowning at her, "but if you're a stone, how can she help you? How can any of us help you?"

The condescending smile didn't waver in the slightest. "Loki brought me away from Thanos. Thank you," she said simply, nodding her head at him regally. "Everyone thinks about how to use me. No one ever asked before what I might feel about it."

"So..." Clint drawled, brows knit as he thought. "She's now therapist to an all knowing power stone from outer space."

"Mind," Shannon clarified. "I am the mind stone."

"I think my head hurts," Gina mumbled.

"Even with you protecting her," Natasha said quietly, "how long can she last like this? With you and her working like this? She's only human."

"Don't worry. She's something else, now, too. And there will be others before I take my leave."

"Where will you go?" Loki asked, staring at Shannon's body with narrowed eyes. "My gambit obviously failed, and Thanos will come for you."

"Oh, he can try, willful creature that he is. Even if he collects all of us, he cannot truly control us." Her smile was an edged thing now, even more eerie because Shannon never used facial expressions like that before. "He can't escape his fate, no matter how hard he tries."

"Can I get my friend back now?" Gina asked.

"Oh. Yes," Shannon said absently. "The next in the chain is found."

And with that, the red light disappeared, leaving Shannon to tumble to the ground, unconscious.

***  
***


	16. The Opening of Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> You tell me if this is a trick or a treat. ;)

Loki looked at the flames, which hadn't died out when Shannon had fallen. The others went to her side, but he went straight to the spell, which was still active. He thrust his unbandaged hand into it, the merry golden flames immediately arcing up his arm. Gritting his teeth, this time he left the hand in the midst of the flames, gaze intent on the heart of it.

He was cold. The fire had felt hot at first, and the blister had been excruciatingly painful for all that it had been brief. This didn't hurt, not exactly, not in the same way that he had feared it would. There was a pattern in the gold as it flickered against the brilliant white light, though he couldn't quite understand it. That was the same feeling that the Tesseract gave him when he had held it, though the Tesseract felt right to him in a way that this had never. 

_Because you weren't mine. You were, sorry to say, a means to an end._

Surprised yet not, Loki tried to think at the flames. _And now?_ he asked, brows furrowed in concern as Gina shrieked "She isn't breathing!"

_Oh. Your friend._

_Therapist,_ Loki corrected. _It's... complicated. Not quite friendship._

_Accurate, I suppose. I don't think you're particularly close to anyone or anything, are you?_

_I have not felt kinship for a long time,_ Loki temporized.

The stone's energy seemed to cluck a disembodied tongue in disappointment. _Don't lie to_ me, _Loki,_ it chided. _I know your mind._

Loki felt somewhat ill. _Then you know it better than I._

That seemed to give the energy pause. _Perhaps that is so,_ it conceded. _She is a kind mind, gentle. But fierce in other ways. She didn't want to use me._

 _No, I don't think she would,_ Loki acknowledged.

_I had to exert quite a lot of force to get her to pick me up. I think your rune was helping her to withstand my energy, so take that as a compliment. If she had magic skill of her own, I might not have been able to take her at all._

Letting go of a long, slow breath, Loki tried not to react with anger. _Why would you need to take her at all?_

The energy paused, then its voice seemed to be small and fragile. _I needed someone that wouldn't harm me or use me for their own ends to send me elsewhere. I should not be on this world. It's unprotected._

Yes, it certainly was. _Who did you have her send you to?_

That clucking noise was back. _None you need to concern yourself with, Loki. You had selfish wants of your own when you held me. And you used me to kill._

Disapproval flared in that energy, and Loki felt ill. _I am not_ good, he thought at it, pushing past his nausea. _Don't think I'm the same as Dr. Tran. She fights a futile battle against my monstrous nature._

Another pause. _Is it futile?_

 _Yes, it is!_ Loki thought at it, desperation ready to choke him.

 _You might not be pure goodness, but no one is._ The energy seemed thoughtful, and paused for a moment. _I have been held by worse hands than yours, Loki. More stained with blood and death._

When Loki thought to look toward Natasha Romanoff, the stone's energy seemed to laugh. _No, no, that one's demons are playthings to some of the creatures that sought to use me for their own gain. I suppose I should be grateful that you thought so small._ When Loki felt insulted as well as ill, the energy paused thoughtfully, then began in a small voice that sounded achingly familiar. _Small in scale, not in want. You want a home, Loki. That is a small thing, but a worthy thing. If you are willing to put the energy into it where it belongs, it can be a future you will have. Dr. Tran was not wrong in that sentiment._

Hope flared, fragile and aching, before Loki quashed it. _So you tell the future now?_

_I report what I have seen. I'm as old as the universe, child._

Loki closed his eyes and found it difficult to breathe. He couldn't name the feeling in his chest, the yawning hole gaping wide with longing. It was easier to look elsewhere, to forget about the pain that the stone's energy brushed against. There was some kind of screaming around him, concern and fear of treachery and death, and then a quiet voice that he recognized.

 _I have seen you, and I have known you,_ the stone murmured, flames dying down from his arm and starting to gutter inside the silver bowl. The voice sounded distant, as if it was moving away from him. _You are not wanting, Loki. You're just lost. A sad little boy that needs to find his way again, but will be better for the journey when you find it._

The connection broke as Shannon sat up on her living room floor, looking around her in confusion. She finally made eye contact with Gina, who looked to be a hysterical mess. "This is why I don't drink!"

***

Clint had gotten over the weirdness of being in his therapists' home over the course of dinner that first time he had been to the duplex. It was a little different after realizing that Shannon had disappeared from her home, because while Loki was starting to do his casting thing, Clint found himself looking over the home for security purposes and found it seriously lacking. Of course Shannon and her friend Gina weren't exactly on the front lines, and were the staffers that Clint and Natasha usually called support staff, but now this drove home just how unsecure this location really was. No one else had known that he had helped to steal the staff out of SHIELD vaults, but anyone could have taken it.

And apparently, the weird magic stone was _alive_ in a sense, speaking through his therapist's body which had suddenly appeared out of nowhere and was _floating,_ and then Loki was sitting on the couch in a trance, his left hand in the magical fire and heatless flames licking up his entire left arm as if it was going to devour him alive and then set the rest of the house on fire.

Good God, how did this disaster become his life?

Natasha looked calm, but that was always her thing. Even if she was terrified for her life, her vitals would remain stable and no one would know unless she let them. He generally referred to himself as a mere mortal in comparison, and he could barely hold it together. Poor Gina had absolutely zero context for this, and looked to be ready to run screaming from the house regardless of the snow outside.

"My head hurts," Shannon said, pulling a face and rubbing her temples. She seemed so small suddenly, and looking away from her and at the literal trash fire that had been Loki wasn't any better. He found himself in the kitchen brewing coffee and putting water in the tea kettle on the stove just for something to do, but Gina gave him a grateful look when she thought to come into the kitchen herself.

Shannon shimmered, just slightly, out of the corner of his eyes, and seemed perfectly normal when he looked at her head on. She seemed exhausted, and didn't know where the past two days had gone. There was apparently only the vaguest sense of where the stone might be, where the scepter would have been stashed. Natasha was very gentle with her questioning, but very thorough, and Clint never tired of seeing the various aspects of her skill set at work. Here was the urging to sip the tea and gather thoughts, then there was the subtle dig as to where Shannon disappeared to or how she managed to get back.

"I just did," Shannon said finally, and there seemed to be that red shimmer in her eyes. Once Clint blinked, it was gone, but for a moment, her eyes had _shimmered._

No one else seemed to catch it, so he might be considered crazy if he mentioned it.

Loki was quiet, looking down at the ashes in the silver bowl and the golden cuffs on his wrists. Magic had changed them, not that Clint knew what the differences in the inscriptions would mean, and Loki also seemed smaller than he previously had. He wasn't trying to make himself smaller, really, but his presence seemed diminished in some way that Clint couldn't explain. It wasn't the slouch of his shoulders or the dark, unkempt locks of hair that fell over his face, or the way his cheeks seemed pale and hollow. He was a prisoner, with only the recent winter sun to look at. Loki was always going to be pale and hollowed out, Frigga saw to that with the castings on the cuffs. No, it was as if the fear that Clint had carried was gone, loosened from his shoulders and let loose somehow.

Shannon would be so proud of him if he could put the feeling into words.

He seemed to sense when Clint was back and staring at him, not bothering to listen to Natasha's careful questioning the way Gina was. Loki looked up at Clint's flat expression, and it was strange how the Asgardian's seemed to be so bleak and empty.

"Is she going to be okay?" Clint asked, not sure why that was the first thing out of his mouth.

"She's _spá_ touched now," Loki murmured. "She doesn't have the gift or skill for it, but she'll always be sensitive to it."

Clint could hear the sad note in Loki's voice, and watched him look back down at the etchings in the cuffs. Nodding toward the bandage on his right hand, Clint grunted to get Loki's attention back. "The second time you put your hand into the fire, it didn't burn you that bad. Why did it the first time?"

The breath Loki took then was more like a sigh, more like the defeated sound Clint had heard in his own room over the past few months. It hurt to hear it, and that didn't give him any joy at all as he thought there would be in May.

"You have to give up something to gain knowledge. There is a cost to workings, to knowing. On some level, I hadn't been ready to pay it yet."

"And the second time you were?" he asked in disbelief.

"More than the first," Loki said. He seemed to fold in on himself a little, gaze still turned inward, contemplating something painful and more important to him than Clint would ever be.

There was no urge to grab Loki and shake him, or scream at him to force him to acknowledge the pain he had caused. Too many were damaged by his actions, and even Loki himself hadn't been able to predict the fallout. But he seemed fundamentally broken somehow, and Clint didn't think that his current behavior was a front. If anything, this was Loki without the masks of grandeur, no posturing or pontificating.

"Was it worth it?" Clint found himself asking. "The Battle of New York," he clarified at Loki's blank look. "Was it worth it to try to destroy the city?"

"That was supposed to be a means to an end," Loki said, voice devoid of emotion. "It wasn't personal against you or anyone else on this world."

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better," Clint said, almost surprised at himself for the venom in his voice.

"It wasn't meant to," Loki murmured. His expression was as eerily blank as his voice was flat, and Clint suppressed the urge to back up a step. "It was merely honest."

 _Are you even capable of that?_ he wanted to snark, but didn't say it. "You didn't get the end that you wanted, did you?" he asked instead.

"No," Loki said, eyes sliding sideways away from Clint's gaze. Not in fear, exactly, but he seemed incredibly uncomfortable and vulnerable somehow. For a moment, he was faced with the dizzying feeling that he could actually _break_ Loki, if only he knew the magic words.

Shannon probably knew them, and by extension Natasha. Shannon was too nice to use them, but Natasha would absolutely flay him alive if she thought it was necessary.

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded at Loki. That was enough, he realized. He didn't have to pummel Loki's face in, as much as he had thought he wanted to. He didn't have to string him up by the Achilles and use him as a target. Clint could look at Loki, head tilted away from him or bowed, magic diminished, shoulders slumped, voice soft, and know that this wasn't an impossible monster to beat. Loki was broken in some way that he didn't understand, that Clint would never understand, and Loki would always search for something to try to seal the breaks he couldn't name.

Walking into the kitchen again, Clint guzzled black coffee. Even before the caffeine hit his system, he felt lighter than he had in months.

***

"So where is the stone now?" Natasha insisted once Shannon finished the tea that Gina had plied her with. "We need to find it."

"It's safe," she said with an indifferent shrug.

Natasha was frustrated with that, and the press of her lips said more about her disapproval than words could. "I need to know where it is."

Shannon looked down at her mug, and Gina replaced it with another cup of ginseng. "I have time to figure things out. I went to Atlanta, and I got a chance to talk with my parents. Well, the stone helped in Ba's case, he can't talk very well. I won't fly down later, and sorry, Loki, but I told them it was because I had to handle the world's first supervillain."

He didn't pretend he hadn't been listening, and gave her an impassive look. His fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm on his leg. "It's how they view me."

"They don't understand how it all works. But that gives them context." She looked at her hands, and could see a faint red tinge under her skin. "I didn't explain anything else, how I was even there when I was. They assumed it was a work thing, but they're not exactly wrong."

"How could you even manage that?"

"There's a way it worked," Shannon said absently, switching her mug to her left hand to lift her right and look at it. The red seemed to flare brighter, but no one but Loki was able to see it. Clint seemed to flinch, but the moment passed when he looked at her directly. "I can't explain it. It doesn't make sense anymore, now that the influence isn't as strong."

"So it was changing you," Natasha said, gaze sharp.

"Yes, but no. Dr. Selvig said it opened his mind," Shannon said, an almost dreamy cast to her voice. "It was like that for me, too. Where it all made sense, everything was connected, and I could just make things work. Because it affects the mind, you know? So I could open doors and close them, and I could _see_ and understand it all. But now I'm just me again." She wiggled her fingers but no one else seemed to see the tendrils of red coiling around them. "Well, mostly just me."

"What do you mean by that?" Natasha asked as Gina leaned in closer out of concern.

"She's _spá_ -touched," Loki murmured.

Shannon looked at him, and let her hand come back to holding her mug. Her eyes were shiny and her lips had a fine tremor. "It's... I can see the world behind the world now. It's fascinating and frightening and not anything I ever thought I would see."

"You can't cast," Loki told her in an oddly gentle tone of voice.

"I know what it told you," she blurted, looking at him intently. He was very still, expression frozen in place. "And what it saw, and how it thought."

"You were separated from it," he protested.

"Not really. Not... Not as far as it was concerned at the time."

"There's this whole other conversation going on that the rest of us are not part of," Gina said in the stunned silence. "I don't know how to feel about that."

Frowning, Shannon took a gulp of the ginseng tea intending to think over a response and choked because it was too hot for her. "I'm still a dork, if that helps," she said, eyes watering as she gasped for air.

Gina shook her head fondly and let out a huff of relieved laughter. "Kind of."

"But the stone," Natasha insisted.

"SHIELD doesn't have it," Shannon told her. "That should be good enough."

"It's not."

"We can't destroy it. No matter what Bruce did, however long he studied it, there's no way to destroy it. It's like a fundamental underpinning of the universe. Like a quark or something in physics." Shannon wrinkled her nose. "That made more sense at the time when I was talking with the stone, but I hate physics and don't understand much more than cause and effect, so whatever." She wrapped her hands around the mug tightly for warmth. "It needed to be elsewhere, and I didn't want it with SHIELD. There's something wrong there, I can't explain it now, but the stone agreed with me, and so it's gone."

"But _where?"_ Natasha asked in frustration.

"I'm not doing another spell," Loki said when she looked in his direction. "If it doesn't want to be found, it won't be, not with an under magic spell."

"It's safe," Shannon said quietly. "It'll be cared for, which is the important thing. Because they need it as much as it needs them."

"Them?" Clint asked, staring at Shannon.

She winced, then sighed. "Twins. Grieving still, and so angry. They're not in the United States, I won't tell you where because you need to leave them alone. I don't know their language, and they have some English, but the stone helped so that we all understood each other. They need this." She tapped her fingers against the mug, saw the tendrils of red flare, but again, only Loki seemed to be able to watch the coils move.

"Why them?" Clint asked.

"Why not them?" Shannon countered. "There's a lot of loss there, a lot of pain, and the anger twists in on itself in all sorts of ways." Her expression was inward as she remembered, gaze distant. "If the chain's not broken, it's going to get worse. No one else was there to care what happened to them, no one was there to listen and hear what happened, and they'd never let go of the grief otherwise."

"If it's just the grief," Clint began.

"The stone took you to those who were also _spá_ -touched," Loki interrupted. His eyes tracked the movement of the red tendrils, brighter now that he was paying attention to it, and then he looked up at her. "Possibly with some natural skill, so that actual casting can be done, and not just leave them sensitive to what cannot be seen otherwise."

"Yeah, that doesn't sound ominous," Gina muttered sarcastically.

"So we're still back to the beginning," Natasha said firmly. "Therapy resumes as usual, and we have to figure out a story about Shannon's whereabouts since you were missing and the queen couldn't find you."

Shannon only shrugged at her, unconcerned. Gina narrowed her eyes at the "Just tell them magic was involved. That's all they need to know, and Queen Frigga will be able to confirm that it was magic blocking her scrying spell."

"Why are you not freaking out about this?" Gina demanded.

"I'm changed, I think. Still me, but..." Shannon frowned. "But yeah, I'm not as freaked out about this as I was before it took me."

"Shannon," Gina began in a warning tone.

"I don't know," Shannon cut her off, frustration in the set of her jaw and the way her eyes seemed to crackle. "I don't know what you want me to say. I'm not freaked out by everything the way I used to be. I know the thought of having to face SHIELD brass and lie through my teeth should be leaving me scared shitless. But right now, I don't care. I don't feel that. I don't feel anything close to that kind of terror. If I don't have a job tomorrow, it doesn't matter. I'll find another one. That's not what _matters,_ if that makes sense. There's better things to worry about than what a mess of paper pushers think of me. So I don't know what to tell you."

"That sounds like you, at least," Gina grumbled.

"They better not fire you," Clint said in a surly tone. "I'm not working with any of the other idiots they have in the mental health department." At Shannon's startled expression, he only shrugged and looked at a point over the top of her head. "I just got used to you. I'm not starting over with some other loser."

"And I'm not working with your predecessor," Loki said, ignoring everyone's gaze swiveling to look at him. "We still have work to do."

She smiled in relief and laughed in a wilted kind of way. "Yay for job security, I guess."

"We need to discuss what the stone did and said," Natasha insisted stubbornly.

Shannon rubbed her temple and sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. "Some parts are hazy right now. Like how I got to Atlanta or how I was able to leave the country, or how I was able to be here at the same time. Because I was in those places and still here, but not, like I was in an in between kind of being? I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"That spa-touched thing?" Gina asked, frowning and then looking at Loki.

"The _spá,"_ he corrected, expression drawn and eyes hollow. "The easiest way to explain it to you is fate. That the rules and laws of the future have been altered. It's a difficult magic, one that often has unforeseen consequences." He grimaced when everyone stared at him. "Not my particular favorite form of magic."

"It's not just fate," Shannon murmured, shaking her head and then taking a cautious sip of the tea. "It's chaos, too. It felt like chaos magic all around me when I was split into pieces. Like when you think of multiple things at once? That's what it felt like. When I was the stone and the stone was me, I was dipping into different thoughts. I didn't change anything," she added hastily, shaking her head, "I would never, but I could feel them. Know them. It... It's humbling, in a way. It's a different kind of look into someone's head."

Loki seemed even paler now. "What the stone showed you—"

"I'm your therapist, Loki. The whole point was to get in your head and understand you so I can help you understand yourself," she said sharply. "If you keep hiding pieces of yourself away, it kind of defeats the purpose of the whole exercise, don't you think?"

He looked away and didn't answer.

"So it isn't necessarily an evil mind whammy thing?" Gina asked.

"It's the intention that determines the use, if that makes sense? There's power in it, yes, and it's weird how suddenly I could understand magic and see it. And still see it." Shannon frowned at her hands. "How the hell do you stand it?" she blurted, staring at Loki. "Because holy shit, what the fuck? Is that how the world really looks to you?"

Loki didn't meet her eyes. "You're seeing the connections and the energies of all things. That's what magic can manipulate, for those that have the ability."

"In other words, yes," Shannon huffed, leaning back into the couch and sipping the tea again.

"You said it was the world behind the world," Natasha prompted.

"Ever look at a 3D movie without the glasses on?" Shannon said, frowning a bit. She waited until the other humans nodded. "That's kind of what it's like. It's weird and gives me a headache. Some of the shadows, though..." Her mouth pinched. "I didn't like how they looked and when the stone gave me power, I was able to push them away."

"Use the concentration rune," Loki said quietly. "It will focus your sight onto only what is, and not what could be."

Natasha looked at him with narrowed eyes, then flicked her gaze toward Clint. He returned the look with a bland one of his own, which seemed to surprise her. Shannon didn't want to know how the silent communication thing was going on between them, and was amused to see the same kind of expression on Gina's face.

"Are you up for a trip back to SHIELD?"

"Am I ready to lie, you mean?" she asked tiredly. "I guess."

"I suppose these will be rewritten," Loki murmured, looking down at the cuffs at his wrists.

"We'll see," Natasha said noncommittally. She exchanged another look with Clint that apparently spoke volumes in and of itself, then began to usher everyone out of the door.

Showtime.

***  
***


	17. Opening Containment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you read that right. This is really almost done. My husband took the kids out shopping yesterday and I had time to do grocery shopping and finish this story in the afternoon. Woo!

Bellington was seated beside Fury in the conference room, wearing his usual black tailored suit with a white shirt and navy blue tie. It might have even been the same navy blue tie he had worn the first time Shannon had ever seen him, she wasn't entirely sure. His black hair was slicked back and seemed oily in the overly bright light in the room, and his sour expression was even worse than usual as he raked his gaze over her.

Shannon hadn't even bothered to change into something approaching a dress suit or more formal wear. The polka dots on her socks weren't visible because she had pulled on heavy snow boots, but the wrap shirt and jeans were far too casual a look for the office. She had snapped her hair tie when she had tried to brush her hair out and redo a ponytail upon entering the Putnam facility, so she had given up and just let her hair hang loose. She looked far younger than her age that way, like a high schooler caught out after curfew. Bellington probably wanted to intimidate her that way, but she sat back in the designated chair, wriggled a bit to get comfortable, and then folded her hands over her stomach as if this was going to be an ordinary chat.

He was _pissed._

Apparently, Shannon had been summoned during a lull in the conversation Bellington was having with Fury, and the Director was giving nothing away. He looked her over with his one good eye, expression bland, and looked over at Natasha and Clint. "You're going to tell me what the hell happened over the past few days."

"Magic," Shannon said before they could.

"The disrespect," Bellington hissed under his breath at Fury.

Fury ignored him. "I was talking to my agents that were charged with finding you. But since you feel the need to speak right now, you can explain what happened."

"Loki is back in lock down, and he didn't do anything more than help locate me." She gave him an innocent look. "Are you angry with that?"

"You're not answering my question."

"It was magic that pulled me into some weird space," she said, shrugging negligently. "I assume maybe it was someone trying to find him? I'm kind of worthless when it comes to magic, so I was a terrible hostage."

"So where did he find you?"

Shannon waved her hand in a so-so kind of gesture. "I'm not sure how to explain it. Like suspended animation or something? I mean, we came directly here after I put on some boots. This is what I was wearing when I disappeared, and as far as I know, no time passed for me. I didn't realize anything was weird until I just showed up again."

"So what makes you think it had something to do with Loki?" Fury asked.

Shannon shot him an incredulous look. "He's magic and I'm his therapist. Why wouldn't it have something to do with him? I don't know anyone else but Queen Frigga that has magic, and she would never do something like this."

Fury seemed to digest that piece of logic, but Bellington looked furious. "From the start, this was an exercise in futility. You put someone incompetent in charge of an explosive, volatile persona, and you think—"

"You can leave my office now, Dr. Bellington," Fury said in an icy tone that brooked no argument. "You will not be discussing this train of thought with anyone else, or all level seven clearance will be revoked."

Bellington paled and got to his feet in shock. Shannon waved at his back before she could stop herself, then schooled her expression impassive when she looked back at Fury's glower. She waited until the door closed behind Bellington to say "Sorry. He didn't treat me very nicely when we first met."

He continued to glower at her, and she stared right back. "You don't seem to understand the magnitude of what is going on."

"Probably not," she agreed immediately, no trace of fear in her tone. "But then, I'm probably also still in shock, and it'll likely come crashing down on me when the adrenaline wears off and I'll be a gibbering mess later tonight."

Clint managed to cover his snort of laughter with a cough, and even Natasha's mouth twitched.

That certainly didn't help Fury's temper, and his glower didn't waver in the slightest. "I will ask you again, Dr. Tran. What happened?"

She merely blinked owlishly at him. "I don't know. It was something to do with magic, and I assume it's someone looking for Loki. I don't know of anyone outside of SHIELD that would know that I'm working with him. Well, my family knows that I'm working with dangerous people, but they're just human. I would imagine that there are a lot of people that Loki pissed off on his way to becoming the world's first supervillain."

Fury leaned closer. "Interesting turn of phrase, Dr. Tran. Because apparently, you were seen in Atlanta saying something to that effect with your family members. And you were also seen in Sokovia at the same time."

"Huh." She blinked and pursed her lips. "But I was in my living room. Like in a bubble or something." She frowned at Fury. "That's impossible, to be in three places at the same time. I would think even magic couldn't make that happen, but I don't know how that works. Can we ask the Queen what she thinks?"

If anything, that answer seemed to make Fury even angrier. "You don't seem to be taking this too seriously." His eye bored into hers. "It makes me wonder if that supervillain did something to you, warped your mind somehow."

Shannon turned to Clint with a frown. "Can I mention a detail from your sessions that he probably knows about anyway?"

Clint seemed startled to be included back in the conversation and nodded. "Sure."

"During the time of mind control," Shannon said, turning back to Director Fury, "Mr. Barton had his eyes colored an unnatural blue. He wasn't acting like himself, and he was following orders that were explicitly given by someone else that imposed their willpower over his. While I could be seen as hardly the best person to tell at the time, I wasn't acting out of character and my eyes never turned that shade of blue." She even leaned in closer herself and widened her eyes so that Fury could clearly see that they were dark brown.

"Dr. Tran—"

She threw up her hands in frustration. "I don't know what you want me to say! I probably have the best idea what's going on in Loki's head, but he didn't do this and he was freaked out when he helped find me. He's alluded to people that terrify him out there in the universe, which I'm sure you know from the transcripts, and I have _no idea_ what the hell they're capable of. As much as there are memos asking me to speed up the process, and Agent Romanoff has said that there are noises about putting him on some kind of trial, if we're going to do this the right way, I can't just go in and break his mind apart. That's just fucked up and I will resign on the spot if that's what you want me to do."

As she finished, Director Fury stood up to stare down at her. Shannon clapped her hands over her mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. _"Trời ơi,"_ she mumbled behind her hands.

"We're going to find out who these other people are, Dr. Tran. Because if they _are_ behind the events of the past few days, our world is in grave danger."

***

"You could have blamed me for it," Loki said quietly, looking past Shannon into the bleary, faint light over the rooftop. "You could have said that I cast a spell somehow."

"I wouldn't lie about something like that."

"No, I suppose not," he said softly.

"So where does this leave you now?"

"I don't know," he said, looking down at the gravel-topped roof. He looked up to meet her gaze after a long moment. "I've been trying this honesty thing. I don't much care for it."

She gave him a wry expression. "No, I don't suppose you would. But what have you learned from it?"

"It is not... It can be unpleasant. There is fear." He swallowed, but maintained his gaze. "But I have not broken and I suppose that is something."

"We'll take it, won't we?" she asked, lips twisting into a sad smile.

Loki nodded, and folded his hands into his lap, falling into silence. When he looked up from his twisted fingers, he was looking out over the pale horizon, brows furrowed. "The garden in Asgard. The one with the spells that I had told you about. I never told you the story and you never asked."

"Was it important to know about?"

"I was a boy," he said stiffly, looking out at the ice covered trees, bare branches reaching up for the sky. "I wanted to impress her so much. I wanted to show her how skilled I was. I wanted her to be proud of me. When she said she was cold when the north wind blew, I thought warming spells would help her." He fell silent for a moment, remembering, and Shannon watched him sort through his thoughts. "I miscalculated," he admitted, voice thick. He finally slid his gaze back to her. "The wrong whorl in the runes, perhaps. The wrong accented words. I still can't recall what I did. But the entire balcony erupted into flames, and the entire garden burned to ashes. Even the rare plants, raised from seed by hand, all of it."

"You were a boy."

"She came at the sound of my screams. She had to cast containment spells, but it couldn't put the fires out. She had to teach me the containment spells, had me do the workings one by one." His eyes shone and his lips trembled. The folded hands were clenched now, knuckles white. "I couldn't do it. For the longest time, I couldn't make it work. The magic wouldn't come to me, it wouldn't do as I asked."

"And she helped coax it back out of you."

"She had to _contain_ me." His voice shook and the tears spilled over his lashes. "Always, it comes back to that, and it was never good enough..."

Shannon reached across the space between them and placed her hands over his, fingertips on the golden cuffs at his wrists. She almost understood the carvings now, almost could read the runes and know exactly how they limited Loki.

"Her job as your mother is to protect you. To raise you, teach you, watch you grow."

Loki's cries were ugly, heaving sobs, overwrought emotions. "She does it still, _contains me._ Because I can't ever escape my monstrous nature, can I? Even if I try to? Because I _tried,_ Shannon. I _tried_ to be what they wanted. I tried to make them proud of me. I tried follow their example, to rule as they did, to prove that I was a worthy son. That I was worth saving, that I wasn't evil like all of the rest, that I am Asgardian." He sobbed, shaking his head. "But the mold had changed, I didn't fit. I still wasn't good enough, I still couldn't do it. I still wasn't worthy. It said I could be, that I'm not so stained with blood and death as others, but I _know_ I can't be good enough, not when exiled into the dark!"

"It's not a question of good enough, I don't think," Shannon said quietly, not breaking eye contact as she squeezed his hands. "You say you didn't fit their mold, and maybe that's true. I don't know enough about Asgardian culture. But maybe you need to find your own path. You need to find the thing that fits _you,_ that feels comfortable, that feels more like the you that you always could have been."

"There is no other path. I can't see one because there never was one! There is rule, there is only that. Thor wasn't worthy when he incited a war he couldn't win, so I was going to finish it. He was _so angry_ at the thought of war he hadn't started, but I knew I could do it. I was clever enough to give him the win he wanted. I would show them that I wasn't a monster, I wasn't some evil creature bent on destruction."

"By destroying an entire other culture?" she asked.

Loki flinched. "It had been the way of Asgard."

His voice was small and lost. "If you can't go back, if you have to stay here, that way won't be good enough. You might not see another path, but life is rarely clear cut choices. It's not a dichotomy. Sometimes you can make a third option, if you're creative enough to see it. Sometimes you need to break free of expectations in order to really grow up."

He still sobbed, and shook his head. "It's impossible."

"You're smart and creative when you're not feeling sorry for yourself and wallowing," Shannon told him firmly. 

Eyes sliding closed, Loki continued to shake his head as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He sniffled, eyes still closed. "The ways are closed to me."

 _"Nhảm cứt,"_ Shannon grumbled, shaking her own head. "Get your head out of your ass and _think._ You're not thinking, you're letting your emotions get the better of you. Come on now, we've done the exercises, I know you did the homework. Cut it out and use the tools I gave you!"

That made his breath catch and eyes open. "You—" he began angrily.

"There. Now that you have your righteous anger to override the self pity," Shannon said, giving him an unamused expression that suddenly reminded him of Frigga, "stop and take a breath. Take several."

He gave her a mulish look, but she stared at him with faint disapproval, chin pointed down. She hadn't let go of his hands, and he let out a long sigh before starting the deep breathing exercises he had practiced.

Once the tension had loosened from his shoulders and he wasn't sniffling so much, Shannon pressed her lips together in an expression that wasn't quite a smile and certainly wasn't disappointment. She lifted his hands so that the golden cuffs were unavoidable, and looked from them to his pained gaze. "You told me in the beginning that all you are is the magic, that it was everything to you. But I say that it isn't. Constrained as you were, it wasn't some complicated spell that allowed you to find me and talk to me. It was magic, yes, but within the limits that these put on you, you were still clever enough to come up with something you _could_ do. If you're able to stop and think, there are options. A scrying spell couldn't find me, _your mother_ couldn't find me, but _you did."_

Loki let out an unsteady breath. "It didn't find me unworthy," he told her in a small voice. "I wasn't wanting. I was enough to help you."

"Yes, you were," she said, lips curling into a true smile. "Which means that you can find your own path."

"Amongst the liars and killers of this world?"

"Somehow, I think you'd fit right in," Shannon snarked, lips quirking in the corners.

Loki huffed in disgust and pulled his hands away to cross his arms over his chest, but didn't disagree. "They don't have magic here," he said finally, looking away. "Not really."

"Surely you're more than just magic. That isn't all of your worth."

"It's the easiest metric," he said quietly. "Because then it's a tangible thing to offer. It's something they don't have here. It would be a reason to tolerate me."

"Or you could give them more reason," she said, tone mirroring his. "Make the relationships so that people think you matter. Care about someone or something. Find a reason for being that doesn't mean ruling a world that doesn't know any of this stuff that you do."

He remained silent for a while, chest rising and falling rhythmically as he breathed. "I'm tired," he said finally, looking at her with a miserable expression. "I'm tired of fighting, of pushing and failing. I'm tired of not being good enough."

"You don't believe me when I say that you're good enough?"

"You might think I am," he began mirthlessly, "but I doubt anyone else does. I'm not even worth the effort of killing."

"That's a pretty weird way of looking at it."

Closing his eyes, he leaned back in the chair and tilted his face up toward the sky. "It doesn't matter where, does it? There is no effort, no recognition..."

"You're the one that has to put in the effort. You're the one that has to recognize yourself. There can't be external validation all the time. There will never be enough of it to fill you up if you're empty inside."

"If I am?"

Shannon snorted, and he brought his face down to look at her curiously. "You're far from empty, Loki. You're still in the throes of a pity party. Which might be fine once in a while, but you can't wallow there for all eternity. You need to _do something._ Idleness really isn't in your nature. Why else would you try coming up with so many tricks and plots? If you're bored, you'll create something to do."

"I suppose," he said uncertainly.

"So we just need to find a better way to direct that energy. A more positive outlet."

"And what would that be?" he challenged.

"Loki," she chided with a soft smile. "I can't give you all the answers. This is one you have to figure out for yourself."

He sighed, clearly afraid she was going to say something like that.

"Time's up for today. But think about it. That's where your energy needs to go. Not over the past, which you can't change, but toward what kind of future you want to build for yourself."

Tired, he shuffled after her down the steps toward his cell.

***

"This feels weird."

Shannon merely stared at Clint for a moment, then blinked rapidly. "Because you're here?"

"Well, it's the first session after you went missing and you reappeared in a poof of magic. I can almost see it on you sometimes. Out of the corner of my eyes," he admitted.

She blew out a slow breath. "So it's not just me, then." At his questioning look, she shrugged. "I can sometimes see it, too." She lifted her hand and gave him a wry smile. "Not now, of course, but sometimes, a reddish gold, just twisting around my fingers."

He nodded at her. "Yeah, that's what it kinda looked like. And it's weird, because I keep thinking it's going to happen and something weird will happen because of it. Like you can do magic now or something."

"Well, we both know I can't. I can apparently see it, but I can't cast. I think we can trust that Loki wasn't lying about that part." Shannon paused. "Does the thought of magic make you uncomfortable?"

"I think I'd be stupid if I didn't feel that way. And I might be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them."

Shannon grinned at him. "About time you thought that of yourself."

Clint froze, then shook his head and shot her a wry, amused smile. "I'd say you tricked me into saying that, but you really didn't, did you?"

"Nah. I think on some level you've always realized that you're smarter than people take you for, but you play off their misperception of you. Like Agent Romanoff does. You deliberately have them underestimate you, then you do your thing. That really helps as a spy. And at other times, it allows you to show off how clever you really are."

"You give me a little too much credit on that part."

"I don't think so," she disagreed, shaking her head. "It's a wonderful defense mechanism that came out of how you grew up, and it's served you well as an adult."

He remained silent for a long time, staring at her. She stared right back, blinking as she normally would, but remained silent. "I don't think that thing changed you much," he murmured. "Not as afraid as you were before, maybe." He broke out into a grin, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. "That meeting with Fury was _awesome._ I don't think I've ever seen him that pissed off at someone that wasn't me."

"That's not exactly a glowing recommendation," she chided, but she couldn't help returning his smile just the same.

"You're still you, though. And seeing that..." He frowned a little. "I guess that means that it didn't change me, either. Because if it was the stone that did things, not Loki, it wasn't him making me do things..." He sighed. "I didn't want to think I was capable of that. It was easier to hate him. To think it was all him, even though deep down I knew it really wasn't. Because it was still me that took down the helicarrier and killed those agents. I'm capable of that kind of thing."

"But it's not _you,_ in the sense that it wasn't something that you chose to do."

"I guess I knew I was capable of killing like that," he said quietly. "That I could do the expedient thing, and figure that some people aren't worth saving. Some people are just numbers to be tallied, and someone will think they're expendable."

"That's not a thought you normally would have."

"No. Not normally. But that's me without my humanity, I guess you'd call it."

"Because a stone won't think of those things. It will function with logic alone, and won't care about the lives that it touches along the way."

He nodded at her. "Exactly. Because it used you to get where it wanted to go, as weird as it sounds of a stone having a mind of its own, you know? It didn't care that you had things to do and people to take care of. Maybe it sort of did, and that's why you showed up with your family that way, but it smacks to me more like it was planning to take you for a long term jaunt and didn't want the inconvenience of you having to fly down for Christmas next week and fucking up its plans."

Shannon sighed and nodded. "Yeah, it kind of felt that way, too."

"Destiny's a bitch, isn't it?" he asked mirthlessly.

She shot him a rueful smile. "It certainly is. But at least I'm still here to pick up the pieces."

"Sucks to be you, though."

"Someone's got to clean up the mess and turn out the lights before locking up." She shrugged and still had that rueful smile on her face. "Might as well be me. I knew what I was getting into when I signed up." At his pointed look, she laughed. "Okay, I _thought_ I knew what I was getting into."

"Regretting it yet?"

Thinking it over for a moment, she gave him a warm smile and shook her head. "Nope."

Clint laughed. "You know, you're okay. And I think we all will be, too."

"That's all I could ever ask for when we started," Shannon admitted. She leaned back in her own chair, mirroring his pose. "You've come a long way in six months. Think you can deal with getting back into the sniper's perch?"

He blinked in surprise. "Huh. Just when I was getting used to vacation," he snarked.

"Think of it as a new year present," Shannon said brightly. "In light of the holiday, we probably won't meet over the next two weeks. Unless you really have need to."

"Huh." Drumming his fingers over his stomach, finally Clint shrugged and gave her a flippant grin. "I'll see you next year, then."

"See you next year."

***

"You truly aren't spending your holiday with your family," Loki murmured when he sat down across from Shannon on the rooftop.

"Well, I did apparently tell them I was vital to keeping a supervillain stable." She immediately grimaced and shook her head. "I'm sorry I said that, Loki, really."

"It was probably the stone," he offered, posture stiff.

"No, that's on me. I doubt a stone would know what it meant."

"It is what I am."

Shannon blew out a breath, and Loki wondered why she appeared to be so pained. Perhaps she had wanted to spend the holiday with them after all. Agent Romanoff was an orphan, so it didn't matter to her one way or another. She may have considered SHIELD to be her family; even Clint Barton hadn't known how she felt on that subject, so Loki had never known either. But she had shown up at the regularly scheduled time, the same blank expression and sharp eyes on her face, and Shannon had been waiting on the rooftop as usual, spells buffeting her with warmth despite the snow all around them.

"I know what the stone said, Loki," she began, tone patient.

"You've mentioned that, yes."

"And your homework was to think of some other outlet for that mind of yours." She shot him a pointed look. "I guess this means you didn't do your homework."

The disappointment in her tone made him flinch and his gut twist. His chest hurt, and he tightened his jaw to keep from saying something cutting. He'd had a dozen different conversations run through his head since the last time he had seen her, and none of them had ever included this.

"There is no context," he said slowly. "My understanding of this realm was rather limited. I don't think there's much magic here, if any."

"And again, I say there is more to you than that."

The ache inside of him was back, a heavy and hollow feeling. He wanted to cry like a child, but forced himself to stay still and meet her gaze. "What need does this world have for more warriors? And I was hardly the one that would be considered the true warrior. But then, your Avengers have Thor for that. He could call on Sif or the Warriors Three to come to his aid should he have need of them. Your leaders are nothing more than a rabble of conceited children, each hungry to devour the last scrap of power that they can. None would welcome my counsel or willingly allow me to rule."

"There's more to you than that," Shannon said quietly, head tilted to the side and a pointed expression on her face. "I know there's ambition in there to be someone, to be seen and known. I know that you want more than a gilded cage of some kind."

"My cell here is hardly gilded," he replied dryly, leaning back in his chair with a haughty expression on his face.

"It's not barred and you get an opportunity to get outside. I know it's still glorified solitary confinement, but we can't ignore the crimes you've done, either." At Loki's huff and eye roll, Shannon crossed her eyes and had a primly disappointed expression directed at him. "So how are you going to fix it?"

"You speak of atonement."

"And?"

Loki couldn't hold her gaze. "I am limited and constrained. I am _held_ like a wild creature that cannot be trusted. And that's what I am, aren't I? I can't be trusted to do healing spells. I can't be trusted to do locator spells. I simply cannot be trusted. So why bother atone? No one would believe it's genuine."

"So you're not even going to try?"

"What for? To be shown the error of my ways at every turn? To have everyone tell me over and over how inadequate and terrible I am?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this," Shannon said slowly, "but why aren't you trying to prove them wrong out of spite?"

He fell still and stared at her, lips parted. "What?"

"You say you're incapable of doing good, right? That you're evil and awful and whatever negative adjective you can think of, right? Then fine. Work with that. You're spiteful and mean and sadistic. You're always plotting something and coming up with a thousand ways to undermine others, right?" He nodded at her warily. "So _use that._ They think you're evil. _Prove them wrong._ Prove that you're more than some kind of oddity locked in a cage to be gawked at. Prove that you're worthwhile. Prove that you're valuable. Prove that you have more to you than what they think."

Loki digested that, gaze turned inward. "I hadn't thought of it that way," he admitted after a long time. "I thought you wanted me to be good."

Now it was Shannon's turn to roll her eyes. "Have you listened to what I've told you?"

"Yes," he replied in a mulish tone.

"But you haven't _listened._ That's what you do to authority figures, Loki. You hear the words and then your own interpretation of them, and sometimes it doesn't even have to be that way. You can take the letter of the law and follow it with your own motivation."

"I am not _good."_ His insistence was complete with a tight jaw, eyes snapping.

"So? Good people can do bad things. Bad people can do good things. The world isn't black and white, Loki. And that you keep thinking it is means I have to take a slightly different tactic with you and our work together."

He blinked rapidly. "So you're not leaving."

Shannon looked at him incredulously. "Why would I?"

"The stone. Its influence. That I had to find you..."

"Bad person," she said, pointing at him with a stern expression, "good thing," she finished, pointing back to herself. "I think you can understand that, yes?"

He pressed his lips in displeasure and glared at her. "Now you're deliberately provoking me."

"Yes, I am," she admitted.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

"You need a challenge. You need a purpose. And wallowing in self pity and feeling like a victim is going to get you absolutely nowhere."

"It's easy for you," he ground out. "You belong here."

"Because I _made_ a place for myself. Nothing was handed to me. In this country there's the belief that you have to work hard for what you're given. Now, of course there's always those that start ahead of the others with all sorts of opportunities already open to them. But you get nothing if you're not willing to work for it. I belong here, Loki, because I say I do. I work with you because I say I can."

Loki seemed to mull over the words. "It can't be that easy."

Shannon snorted before could stop herself and shook her head. "Nothing worthwhile is easy, Loki, you know that. But you've been lazy, and we can't let that stand."

"Why would things be different now?"

"You're big on stories," she said in reply, eyes lighting up with challenge. "Well, there are sayings about new years and new beginnings. We turn the page on the calendar and start fresh. We're almost done with 2012. So what are you going to do with 2013?"

Loki looked down at the ground unhappily and laced his fingers together, saying nothing for a long time. Shannon sat with him, her own hands folded together on her lap, and she waited patiently. "You're lost," she murmured quietly when he didn't seem willing to talk again. "It said that you were lost, and you need help finding your way."

He nodded slowly and didn't answer her.

"But I'm not going to give you the easy way out. I'm not going to tell you what to do. It's on you, and there are no more excuses," she said sternly. "I'm a help. A guide of sorts. But I'm not here to give you answers that you're supposed to be finding yourself."

 _Time to grow the fuck up,_ she wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut. It would have provoked him too much, and she wasn't an idiot.

"You've been constrained and contained long enough, don't you think?" she said when he stayed silent, pondering whatever it was that he was pondering. She probably should have been afraid that he was so still, but he wouldn't harm _her_ at least.

That thought probably shouldn't have been as comforting as it was.

"So think about what you want and how to get it. And _do it._ The world isn't going to hand you anything, and you wouldn't value anything given to you like that anyway," Shannon continued. She stared at him until he looked back at her with a sigh, nodding. "Good, and I'll see you next week, right before the new year. We have planning to do."

Apparently, he agreed with her.

***  
***


	18. New Year

"You look tired."

Shannon looked up at Natasha standing in her office doorway. "Happy New Year to you, too."

Natasha smiled and entered the room, her paper coffee cup in hand. She was dressed casually, dark jeans and a bright red top beneath a jacket. Her hair was loose, but clipped back and away from her face. "I assume that's why you missed supervision?"

Wincing, Shannon nodded. "Sorry about that."

Looking at the papers spread out across Shannon's desk, Natasha shot her a smirk. "That's not only one chart."

"Nope." She sighed and leaned back in her chair. "I could probably use a break."

"Chocolate?" Natasha asked, lips quirking up in the corners.

Shannon laughed. "I'm such a stereotypical girl sometimes, aren't I?"

"Hey, if it releases endorphins, it helps." Natasha had actually come prepared with a Hershey bar in her jacket pocket, and tossed it over to Shannon. "I had a feeling."

"Ha ha, you saw my notes from New Year's."

"Of course I did," Natasha replied, pulling up a chair to sit next to the desk.

"Do you disagree with the assessment?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, Clint's ready. And I'm not saying that just because he's my friend, but because he really is different. He can deal with things again."

"He's the one that did the work."

"Not that he thinks he did," Natasha laughed, sipping her coffee.

"While I have the time, I was doing summaries of my other patients, too," Shannon told her, shrugging. "Some of them are ready to be closed out."

"Loki's session was an exercise in futility."

Shannon nodded and leaned back in her chair. "I think he's scared of moving forward. He's stuck where he's at, but even trying to think of an alternative is terrifying. So I'm going to have to nudge him along and do more coping skills work with him. I've gotten a number of DBT manuals to work with him, so I'm hoping that will help."

"You were incorporating pieces of that before."

Looking at Natasha in surprise, Shannon chewed on the chocolate slowly. "Are you familiar with DBT, then?"

"I've made it my business to look into what techniques you've been using."

"There's that, and while I'm hardly well trained in it, I have a feeling that art therapy or music therapy would work well for him, too. There's this sense of a tortured artist about him, you know? Like he'd be at home in the village with a bunch of hipsters."

"More likely the goth kids," Natasha returned with a smile.

"Point," Shannon acknowledged. She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her stomach, letting the tension fall out of her shoulders a bit. "So, I've been here during the holidays. I'm guessing you have, too."

"Your friend Gina invited me out once," Natasha said, lips quirked up in the corner.

"Well, good for her."

"I didn't say that I went."

"That she actually asked you is amazing enough. You know, being her celebrity crush and all."

"It's an odd feeling," Natasha admitted quietly. "Being a celebrity. Being someone that others look up to. I'm not that type. I know who and what I am, even if others don't."

"But maybe they're seeing what they need to see? You're not really a supervisor, but I need to see that in you," Shannon explained when Natasha lofted an eyebrow at her. "I need to feel as though I'm getting somewhere here, not just spinning my wheels and doing nothing. I need to feel like I'm actually making a difference in his life."

"You're his nonjudgmental person."

Shannon nodded, then quirked her mouth. "It's not exactly what I thought it was going to be when I started. It's weird, when you're first out of school. _I_ know that I don't necessarily know anything more than I did the day before I got that expensive piece of paper on the wall, but suddenly I'm a doctor. I'm supposed to know more about this than other people. I'm considered an expert, but I know I'm not. It's daunting."

"You faced down Bellington."

 

She laughed, a delighted sound that seemed to brighten her entire being from the inside out. "Yeah. Looking back on it, I'm shocked at myself for doing that, because I was thinking,  
holy shit, I thought I was ruining my career before I even started."

"You've always been braver than you thought you were."

"I guess so. In some ways." She still had that wide smile on as she looked at Natasha. "In the ones that matter, at least."

"So do you have a game plan for Loki?"

"Every time I think I have one, he screws it up." Shannon pulled a face. "Okay, not accurate. But he seriously wrecks everything I think I'm doing and it veers off into territory I didn't think I would have to approach."

"So it means you need a new plan."

"Or no plan."

Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. "That sounds like a mistake. Any kind of therapy without a goal in mind will meander forever."

"But that's probably what he needs, don't you think?" Shannon murmured. "That there isn't a deadline. No finishing date when he's kicked off my roster. It's the corrective experience," she said, tilting her head to the side and wagging her eyebrows in a mocking kind of way. "Which is stupid, because it should be _his_ family that he relies on. But since he can't, it's gonna have to be me."

"Do you think you could handle this long term?"

"I survived a mind stone," she said, pressing her lips together and nodding as if she needed to convince herself of that, too. "I can survive this."

"And flourish, I think," Natasha added.

"You think so?"

"Someone needs to take over Bellington's spot, and it better not be Vallejo."

Shannon laughed out loud again, covering her mouth with both hands, eyes sparking. "No pressure, huh?"

Natasha laughed. "No pressure."

***

Walking into the detention room, Shannon frowned to find it empty. Beyond the glass was an empty bed stripped of all sheets and blankets. The few notebooks and pens were gone as well, and it seemed hosed down and sterilized. Fury walked in soon after; he must have wanted to make a dramatic entrance. Shannon pursed her lips and flashed her displeasure at him, even though her stomach did slow somersaults from growing nerves.

"You got your wish, Dr. Tran," Fury said. "I approved the transfer an hour ago, and I was overseeing it myself, so I didn't get a chance to let you know."

 _Likely bullshit,_ she wanted to say, but remained silent. She stayed still and didn't say anything, letting Fury feel her displeasure. Not that it would matter to him, but it was the thought that mattered to her.

"Follow me," he told her, voice clipped and stiff. He wasn't happy with her, either. But as the only one that Loki was going to talk to, that gave her enough job security that she wouldn't have to worry about getting fired. Past that, she could be subjected to all sorts of indignities to make her want to quit if he was so inclined.

The new cell was just as reinforced as the old one, but had a barred window to the outside world. It was located near the stairs to the roof, and Loki was apparently allowed a few more belongings. Some seemed Asgardian, and Queen Frigga must have been involved in that as well as the spell work. Fury handed her an ornate gold and emerald pin. "You wear this, and it will allow you in and out of the force fields. If anyone that isn't human touches it to take it from you, it'll send them into convulsions."

Loki was sitting on the new bed and shot them both a sardonic smile. "Because I am thought to be a petty thief as well, I suppose."

Shannon shot him a sour look. "Shut it."

While he shot her a sulky look in response, he did just that. Fury's good eye blinked once, and Shannon thought perhaps it was surprise.

"This is really new," she told him in a brisk tone as if she was opening up a session, "so you can choose to talk in here, or if you'd rather, go to the roof as usual."

He mulled that over, then looked around. "I can explore later."

Snorting, Shannon shook her head and waved her hand to indicate that he should follow her. "We're still going to get around to talking about your homework, Loki. Don't think I forgot about that just because your room moved."

Fury was silent as Loki sighed in resignation. "That damned homework."

"You're the one that keeps putting it off."

"So we'll have to explore that, too," Loki grumbled.

"And you thought you wouldn't learn anything from therapy," Shannon said with sarcastic sweetness. Loki rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth quirked up a bit. Fury followed them up to the roof, and Shannon told herself it was really no different from Natasha hovering behind them during sessions. She could easily forget he was even there, even if Loki kept pausing and glancing over her shoulder. Every time he did, she cleared her throat or tapped her foot impatiently. It was more important to go through his thought process, especially since she was working with the theory that he was resisting now to avoid being done with therapy. He hadn't expressed such a fear before, but it was a new year, now. they were supposed to take a new tactic, but it hadn't materialized.

"Perhaps this is a wasted endeavor."

Shannon rolled her eyes at him. "You're thinking in absolutes. That if you can't be helped in some way or provide help, it's useless."

"Because it usually is," Loki hedged, looking back toward Fury.

"Eyes on me, Loki," Shannon said sharply. His gaze snapped back to her. "Whatever happens, your sentence is not a short one. I think you realize that."

"Director Fury had informed me of that," Loki said stiffly.

"So we have a long road of work ahead of us. We're probably going to go through iterations of this every once in a while, but let me lay it out for you right now: I'm not going anywhere. _You're_ not going anywhere. This might be a way of trying to control what little you can, but it's also an exercise in futility."

"Isn't that what all of this is?" he asked, voice brittle.

"You aren't driving me away, Loki," Shannon said simply.

He looked at her in disbelief. "There are others who would disagree with you."

Shannon snorted. "As if you'd work with anyone else. As if you could even trust them if they pulled a stunt like that."

Loki's eyes drifted past her to Fury, then snapped to hers in surprise. Her back still to Fury, Shannon allowed herself a small smile. "So. If you're afraid this is the end, sorry to tell you, this is only the beginning of our work together." She leaned forward a bit and put her hands on the seat of her chair. "There's going to be a lot things that we work on, different styles to approach your psyche."

"Because you're not skilled?" he asked, though the tone was far less biting than it had once been.

She shook her head. "Because it's not an easy task. Because as eclectic as your mind is, you won't respond to orthodoxy. You need a flexible approach, someone to meet you where you're at yet still challenge you."

"And you think that's you."

"Oh, I know it is," she replied with that same edged sweetness she had earlier. "So you're stuck with me, Loki. Years, probably, if you can stand it."

His shoulders softened and his lips seemed to waver. "You're mortal."

"Yeah. So there's no time for bullshit games, is there?"

He laughed, startled a little, and closed his eyes before tilting his face up to the sky. "I suppose there isn't, no."

"Let's get on with it, then, shall we?" she asked, lips curling into a warm smile.

Loki responded to it with an answering grin. "Perhaps this will truly be a challenge after all."

***

Juggling a briefcase, coffee go cup, phone and a handful of mail, Shannon walked right into Bruce Banner and another gentleman arguing with someone at the front desk of the Putnam facility. The top of her go cup was firmly screwed on, so nothing spilled out. The phone and mail spilled out of her hand and she winced at the very audible cracking sound as her phone hit the tiled floor.

The three stared at each other for a long moment before she blew out a sighing breath. Bruce started to stammer something that was partly apology and partly introductions. She looked up from collecting her mail at the name "Tony Stark," and squinted at him. "Huh. No appointment?" At his blank look, she nodded at the security guard. "Why else are they hassling you for showing up at the building?"

"They said I needed an appointment to see you."

She shoved the phone in her coat pocket, inwardly sighing at the big crack across the screen. The mail had to be shoved into her briefcase once she opened it, and Shannon got to her feet. "If you're in need of a therapist with proper clearance, generally all the credentials have to be checked by Sophie Conner. I can give you her number and then the two of you can wrangle with insurance coverage and the proper security levels—"

Tony stared at her for a moment, then started laughing. He gave Bruce an amused smack on the arm. "You really weren't kidding about taking things seriously."

"Yes, I do," Shannon said in a firm tone. "And if traffic hadn't been terrible because of an accident on the exit ramp, I would've been upstairs in my office already and getting ready for my day. An appointment with you wasn't on my schedule, and it's pretty tightly done today."

"Pepper would love you."

"I'll take your word for it," Shannon said, clearly not understanding what was going on.

"Bruce was telling me about something that had happened earlier that they had tried to get me involved in. A project," Tony said earnestly. "I'd like to talk to you about that project."

"You probably don't get told no often," Shannon began.

"Pepper would _love_ you," Tony declared.

Shannon rolled her eyes at him. "Like I said, I have a full day scheduled today. I'm probably going to wind up working through lunch as usual to get my treatment plans done on time. So you really do need to make an appointment."

"How about this?" Tony said, pulling a card out of his wallet. "You contact me when you're ready to talk, any time of day." At her lofted eyebrow, he shrugged insouciantly. "I don't sleep very much."

"What would this be about?"

"There's a team. You've heard of us, maybe? Well, it's been a rough go-around, and Bruce convinced me to talk to you, because you'd understand it."

Looking at the card, then back up at Tony, Shannon's expression softened. "You should talk to Sophie. I think I have an opening Friday morning, but she'd know for sure in case she booked it up already."

"You're that busy?"

"Getting there," Shannon told him ruefully. "Apparently, there's a market for someone willing to work with depowered supervillains."

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. "Takes a special kind of person to do that."

"It takes a patient one."

He mulled that over, then nodded. "I suppose it does, but I never really thought of it that way."

"You build things," Shannon said with a shrug. "This is a field that builds in a less concrete way, so you really have to be patient to see it through to the end result."

"Can you get me Sophie's contact information?"

"As soon as I get to my office."

"I'll be free Friday morning," Tony assured her. He flashed her a charming grin, but at this point she was familiar with the look of panic and anxiety behind it. That was an expression she saw far too frequently on Loki's face or that of other SHIELD agents she was working with.

At Bruce's relieved exhale, Shannon smiled and shook her head ruefully. "So will I."

Everyone had a niche in life. Sometimes it took a while to figure it out, but apparently this was where she was meant to be. At least it wouldn't be boring.

The End


End file.
